Magic Memories and Life Changes
by Aunt Ginny Potter
Summary: When a crime scene brings more than the MCRT bargained for, Tony's life gets whacked around just that tiny bit more. Little girls can make quite an impression on you, even without the magic sticks.
1. Old-fashioned Castles and Bright Girls

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

By the time the wooden stick started moving on its own, Ziva was rethinking her decision of entering the house with the beams of bright light. It being her job or not, she was not paid enough for this.

Then again, she reasoned, there was no use crying over spilt water, so she decided to go over the events of the day to see where it all had gone wrong. To see where she should have stopped and thought _this isn't right_.

The day had started normally enough – Tony was being silly as usual, Gibbs had strolled into the bullpen at exactly the right/wrong moment (depending on the perspective), head-slapped him, and informed them he'd be expecting them to be ready to leave in the prepared truck in five. Five seconds, that was. Then he'd disappeared, and Ziva had followed, along with Tony and McGee, to the garage.

"So, Zee-vah," Tony glanced at her, taking his eyes off the road for a brief second. "let's talk."

They were stuck in traffic – rush hour – and the combination of blaring horns and shouting matches with the summer air was leaving her in a bad mood. The ride itself to the address was already long – at least a forty-five minute drive – and she saw McGee nodding off a little in the back seat. They had been going at about five miles an hour for the past fifteen minutes, and there was no sight for improvement, so she couldn't really blame him.

Taking off her cap to avoid the heat concentration in her head, she figured that if Tony was bored enough to make small talk like that with her, so was she.

"Talk about what, Tony?" She asked with a sigh. His returning grin told her that he knew she was as willing to get involved in his non-sensical chatter as he was. Otherwise, they were both aware, she would have just given him a snide remark back.

"Nothing. Everything." The heat seemed to be getting to him. "Isn't that the beauty of life?" No, that was just his recurring head injury, after all.

She rolled her eyes. "You cannot think of anything to talk about, can you?"

He turned to her with a smile – an actual smile, wrinkles appearing around his eyes and without over-exposure of his teeth. That, more than anything, made her lose her tight attitude and smile back.

As soon as it had started, the… whatever it was, was over, however, and Tony glanced back, suddenly aware that McGee was in the car with them. Then, he made to look toward the road again, but stopped abruptly when his brain caught up with what he was seeing in the back seat.

Ziva glanced back as well, and disbelief crossed her features when she noticed McGee, head leaning against the head rest, and very fast asleep. She looked at Tony, and observed as his lips slowly turned from the warming smile to the full-blown DiNozzo grin.

McGee was going to regret this incident dearly, she decided.

Tony looked at her with wide, desperately pleading eyes, holding a finger to his lips. Then he looked at the unchanging scenario viewed through the window. Stopping the car completely, he didn't move even when the car in front did. The yelling and horn blaring behind them got louder, but McGee didn't even twitch.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Her voice was a whisper – for some strange reason, she was going along with his plan.

He smirked at her, but kept quiet. Glancing behind him one last time, he gripped the gear shift. She saw him observing the distance forming, slowly but surely, between their car and the one in front. The noise was getting louder and louder, but Tony ignored it.

They stayed still and quiet like that for a long time, and Tony kept quiet at her repeated question. Annoyance rose up in her as fast at the noise behind them. When that became unbearable, her mood was not in the clouds. After there were about a hundred feet of space in front of them and she thought there'd be people coming out of their own cars soon, her partner hit both the acceleration and brake pedals, and still waited. She decided that was not a good omen for what was to come.

And then Tony shot her a crazed grin, shifted the gear, and told her: "Hold on." And the car jerked forward as he released the brake, and slammed on the horn at the same time.

What followed was an attack on possibly all senses except maybe taste. Gas filled her nostrils, she saw the red metal behind of the next vehicle approach so fast her heart nearly jumped out of her ribcage, her whole body jumped on the seat – landing hard with a painful groan – and her eardrums rang almost delusional with the sound.

McGee never stood a chance.

She heard a rather girlish yell from behind – marking the exact moment that the rude awakening was forced upon the junior agent. A loud _thump_ told her that his head had hit Tony's seat, and the senior agent's smirk told her he was enjoying the show.

Ziva looked back, and saw McGee, looking slightly dazed, shakily hoisting himself up to his seat again. His cap, badly positioned on his head, fell down to the floor of the truck.

"Tony." McGee said through grit teeth, once his eyes focused again. "I am going to kill you."

"Don't bother, McGee." Ziva, reassured no one had sustained serious injuries, turned to her partner, glowering. "I can do it much more easily than you, and achieve a lot more pleasure from it too."

Tony, grinning like the cat who got the rat, cheerfully turned to Tim. "Oh, did we wake you, McSleepy? So sorry." Then he turned to Ziva, features morphing into a playful scowl. "That's rich, coming from you, actually."

She didn't deign that with an answer, and, making sure he got the full force of her glare, she put the cap back on her head.

McGee closed his eyes and leaned back again – both too tired from adrenaline withdrawal and his mind too fuzzy to think properly. Ziva had no problem in taking over, though.

Tony kept driving – slowly, now - though there was still the occasional annoyed horn or yell directed at Tony, who seemed the only one well-spirited in the entire highway. Ziva's protesting lasted approximately one minute, until she'd gotten tired of her every remark being rewarded with a teasing comment. Not even she could get under his skin that day.

Then, McGee spoke again, seeming restored both from his sleep and from being awaken in the worst manner he could picture at the moment (because he wasn't exactly picturing much) by, to make matters even worse, Tony (that really wasn't turning out to be his day). He was staring at the ceiling with a slight flush on his cheeks – whether from the jumpiness still in his system or embarrassment, she wasn't sure.

"There are other ways to wake someone up, you know, Tony." His voice was completely flat, plainly annoyed but aware that he was speaking to Tony and that no amount of irritation in his tone would accomplish anything.

Tony grinned at the rear-view mirror. "Yeah." He sighed in dramatic disappointment. "But this was the only way I could think up on the spot that made you uncomfortable. Anyway, you just be glad we didn't involve superglue." He said, the smirk returning.

The glance McGee spared her at the 'we' made her feel guilty, so she immediately became defensive. "I had nothing to do with this." She proclaimed in protest, affronted.

"It was all her idea." Tony whispered loudly enough to make sure she'd heard him.

Ziva bore narrowed eyes into her partner, hitting his arm. "Would you like me to inform you of how many ways I could kill you, moving only my left arm?"

The line caught a break, and the cars began moving faster. Distracted as he sent her a wink and a grin, Tony didn't move. She didn't understand, sometimes, why she felt an irrepressible void whenever he wasn't around. Of course, thinking about _that _wasn't going to bode well for her either. She tore her gaze away from him.

Another horn blared behind them and Tony's head snapped up. He pulled at the manual stick hurriedly before pressing down lightly on the accelerator.

"You are _not _gaining any fans among the DC drivers, Tony." McGee told him slightly snappishly, looking at a side mirror and seeing annoyed drivers left and right.

Tony shrugged flippantly. "I'm just too damn handsome." Well, there was no way to argue with that statement, so McGee just snorted.

"I doubt that people are angered by your good looks, Tony."

Tony's eyes swerved sideways to look at Ziva, with a warmer aspect than before at her statement.

"Ah, but you admit I have good looks, then?" He retorted, grinning.

It was in this kind of situations that Ziva divided Tony into two people. The one who would indiscriminately use his body as a human shield for his team, and the one who just needed some ego petting now and then. Right now, Tony was number two.

Egos were not the type of animal she urged to pet. Also, she really didn't want to answer that question. She ignored him.

"Tony. Drive." McGee reminded him. A glance at her partner told Ziva that Tony had been watching her, distracted from the road – which, for some reason, made her blood run closer to the surface. The car began moving again, crossing in two seconds the small distance that'd formed in front of it.

The rest of the trip, which took another hour, went silently. McGee was still grumpy and both Ziva and Tony kept quiet, like they always did whenever their years' worth of sexual tension – and more – made itself known.

Finally, they arrived at their crime scene. They left the car, and any discomfort left them as soon as they were able to stretch their legs and cool down.

Nodding at the police officers swarmed around the tape, they entered the gate leading to the front yard.

"Looks like we're a little late for the party." Tony deduced, observing the empty place. "Everyone's already left."

"Not Ducky or Gibbs." McGee piped up, following Tony through the main door. "Which means we'd better get to work."

"They are probably still stuck in traffic." Ziva said from behind McGee.

There was nothing unusual about the crime scene, except for the lack of investigators entering and leaving. It was a suburban safe haven for a retired couple, who had gotten home, back from a vacation in Majorca, to find a dead body in their living room.

The house was big. It had four levels, each of the size of Tony's apartment, and it was surrounded by double that amount of space – partially terrace, partially open field. The first door on the left after they entered was an office that looked like it was only used for watching TV or for hanging children's drawings. It led to a small bathroom, and no one had obviously found anything there. At the end of the main hall there was a glass door leading to the biggest living room Tony had ever seen, and which was also their crime scene.

Tony began taking pictures and Ziva bagged and tagged everything she saw. McGee left to take another sweep at the house, since he witnesses had been since interrogated.

The death of the victim, already ID'd as Petty Officer Lyla Lauren, seemed pretty straight-forward. Tony entered the living room, and he immediately saw the blood under the table. Behind it there was a fancy, and big, tableware cabinet, apparently for display, since it was occupied by what were obviously grandchildren's gifts.

It had three glass doors, and the middle one was shattered, along with a painted plate that had been inside. That was all a result of a bullet – Lauren had been in front of the cabinet when she was shot. His attention was, for some reason, drawn to the plate again. From what he could see, it said 'I love my grandparents', and had a drawing of two children holding hands with a grey-haired man and woman. Tony took a picture of it – he felt strangely disheartened by the sight of the shards.

Turning his back to it, he did what he always did whenever he felt emotionally uncomfortable. He began light-hearted conversation. "Well, I would _not _mind living in a place like this." He stated, eyeing the big, old-fashioned fireplace and the plasma TV. "Seriously, that thing looks like it hasn't even been turned on yet."

"That's because there are three more around the house." McGee informed him, not without a certain amount of awe.

Tony blinked up at him in utter disbelief, but Ziva's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I would think this was a bit old-fashioned for you, no?"

"Well, a little," He conceded, noting the wooden, nineteenth-century style doors and furniture. "but you'd be surprised at what a little work can do to a place." He turned to her with a grin. "Plus, it has a whole _royalty _look to it. There are stairs everywhere. Like those." He pointed at a 'staircase' that was constituted of a single pair of steps, positioned right in the middle of the living room, and dividing the space. What he supposed was the area where meetings (why retired people would need meetings, Tony did not know) took place – judging from the big table and the several ashtrays scattered on it – was the side they were on. The other side had the TV and the fireplace. And four, huge couches.

"What do the stairs have to do with anything?"

Tony shrugged. "They just make the house look more like a palace." Ziva rolled her eyes. "C'mon, did you never want to live somewhere like _this _when you were younger?"

She didn't meet his eyes, choosing to pick up another piece of glass. "Who says I didn't?"

Tony's head snapped to her, making the picture he was taking of the blood splatter in one of the non-broken glass doors become the picture of a blood-colored Ziva. "Really?" He asked suspiciously.

McGee rolled his eyes, crouching down to help Ziva in lack of anything else to do. "Gibbs will probably be here any second, Tony." The junior agent warned him.

"Who's Gibbs?" A voice called from the doorway. The three agents' heads turned, in a certain amount of alarm, to the source of the noise.

A pretty young girl, looking no older than eight, was leaning against the doorway of the room, arms crossed in front of her chest. She had brown eyes and braided brown hair, loose strands tucked behind her ear, and her expression was startlingly blank for her age. She was wearing a pink, girlish dress that reached her knees, and she looked rather uncomfortable in it.

After getting over their shock, the NCIS team shook themselves out of their stupor. Ziva and McGee hurriedly covered the sight of the body, and Tony stepped towards her, since he was the only one holding anything non-threatening, the camera, instead of, say, a piece of bloody glass, or ripped pieces of red-soaked clothes.

"Hi." He said cheerfully, crouching and making sure she could only see him and the tidy places of the room. "You're not really supposed to be here, you know." He took off his glove and offered her his hand. "Let's go see if we can find you mum and dad, shall we?" He insistently but gently urged her out of the room, still making sure she didn't see anything she shouldn't.

He was surprised, however, when she refused to move past the door. Silently, she looked up at him with slightly amused brown eyes. Glancing behind at his coworkers, he noted McGee's apprehensive face and Ziva's expressionless gaze. Great help.

He turned back to the little girl with a forced smile. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

She paused, glancing behind him at Ziva and McGee, and then at Tony himself. Before the senior agent could assure her that they were the police and wouldn't hurt her, she answered him of her own accord. "Marian."

Rather strange name for a child. "Okay, Marian. How did you get in here?" His voice was friendly, and he added a smile for good measure.

She looked up at him, and he saw a sliver of amusement in her eyes. "Your colleagues aren't covering all the entrances." Her voice was actually cheerful, as if this kind of mischief was something she wasn't used – or even allowed – to do, ever, and she was enjoying it very much.

Tony was surprised. Immediately, his inner child jumped to secret passages in the castle-like house. Then he decided to introduce some sense back into his head.

"Can you show me where it is?" He asked politely, because he was rather afraid that she'd start using words that he didn't know. From the way she spoke, that was quite possible, so he decided to stick with the big kid talk.

He was not prepared, however, for her to raise her eyebrows at him in disbelief. "No! It's _my _hiding spot. No one knows where it is but me."

Flustered, he had no idea what to answer to that. Instead, he addressed McGee. "Uh, McGee? Forced entry?"

Thankfully, Tim understood what he meant. "Nowhere."

So either both the victim and the killer had a key, or they'd forced his entry through Marian's secret entrance. The owners had claimed not to know her, and their alibies had checked out. So either they knew the killer enough to give him/her a key and he'd let Lauren in- it was all too complicated. First things first. They needed to start with the easier option to investigate. He ran a hand through his hair. They needed a location.

He tried another way of questioning. "Hey, tell me something; why do you need a secret spot?" He asked. He moved so that he was more comfortable; his cellphone was digging into his leg.

She smiled shyly. "I like to be alone. There're always a lot of people here, and they're always… smothering me. I like to have somewhere I can hide and pretend there's no one calling me." She really knew big words.

"Really? Uh…" He smiled, winking at her. She smiled a little wider, and he could see her relaxing visibly. "You know, I like to be alone, sometimes, too. I stay in my apartment, and I put my phone in the fridge so I don't hear it."

Her smile turned into giggles. "You put your phone in the fridge? Why don't you just put it under clothes in your closet or something?" Her eyes were bright – she was giving him an actual suggestion, looking up at him with uncertain eyes, wondering whether he'd just dismiss her as a kid.

So he scrunched up his face in the stupidest way he could, and he looked at her mock-crossed. "Now, _why _didn't I think of that?" He protested loudly, making sure there wasn't a hint of mocking in his voice. The girl was particularly sharp.

She evolved from giggling to laughter, and he had no choice but to grin. Look at that, who knew he could actually make a kid laugh? Wouldn't the Rich Texan guy be proud.

He made to look back for suggestions, but his pleading look faltered when it landed on Ziva. She was still clutching the same glass shard of ten minutes ago, and her gaze was locked on him and the small girl with an expression of… longing?

His brain had fried sometime before that moment, for sure.

Swallowing dry, he turned back to Marian, and smiled a feeble smile. Scrambling to remember how he'd planned this talk, he managed to ask his next question in a half-normal voice. "But, you know, I told people I trust and care about where my hiding spot was." He told her, as if in great confidence. "Like those guys." He pointed to McGee and Ziva behind him, but not looking back in order to avoid them catching his red ears. "Didn't you do the same?"

Marian pursed her lips, frowning a little, no longer amused. "No… But," She hesitated. "My grandma knows where it is."

Alright, so Tony'd just add the smiling, grey-haired lady in that plate to his suspect list.

Tony smiled in a friendly manner again, assuring her neither she nor her grandmother was not in trouble. "She found you, huh?"

Marian grinned, now looking completely at ease. "And then she sat there with me cross-legged, eating yoghurts."

Tony chuckled. "Really? Do you like yoghurts?" He asked curiously, beginning to gently lead her out of the room again, feeling safe in doing so now.

She shrugged. "Not really. But mum makes me eat it, and drink milk too, sometimes, because it's good for me."

Immediately, he changed his next line. "Yeah, yoghurts, milk… Blargh!" He mock-shuddered, now out of the living room completely. She giggled again.

Giving her a heartening smile, he tried to push his luck, maybe further than he actually could. "So, Mary – can I call you Mary?"

A carefree smile that she didn't appear to show much drew itself on her face. He took that and her nod as an encouraging answer.

He figured he could really talk to the grandmother, but she'd been shipped off for an interview and he didn't know how long he'd have to wait before he could speak to her. And he really didn't want Gibbs to arrive to the house and find him empty-handed.

"So, Mary, can you show me that secret spot?" He put on his best DiNozzo grin and pleading eyes, and it seemed to make progress as she fidgeted for a moment. "I promise I won't tell anyone about it except a couple of people who have to take a quick look at it."

He analyzed her behavior – she seemed wary of his promises. He started to understand that she had somewhat of a problem with adults. He frowned slightly, cop instincts kicking into place. He scanned what little of her skin he could see. She didn't seem physically abused, so he let it rest for the moment.

She hesitated; then nodded. "Well, I think my grandparents won't want to live here anymore, anyway." Smart kid. And she led the way.

Right in front of the doors to the living room there were identical ones leading to another hall, smaller this time. To the left, there was a decorated stairwell, probably leading to the floor of the bedrooms. Next to the stairs, there was a door to what he could see was the kitchen, only a little smaller than the enormous living room. In front was a bathroom, and to his right was another door. That's where Mary headed.

Once he stepped through the door, there were plain stairs to his left, a floor in front of him and blank wall to his right. He supposed this part of the house was sort of the backstage of the place. Marian descended the stairs and he followed.

And found himself in a corridor. To his left it continued, darkly lit, but Mary led him to a saloon to his right.

It was huge. The living room above was a bathroom compared to it. "A person could live down here." He murmured, looking around. His voice echoed off the walls, though the place was not under-furnished.

The biggest plasma he'd ever seen sat on a wooden, beautifully carved piece of furniture. Three couches (for about four _big _people each) surrounded it in its viewing range. In the middle was a coffee table. Behind the farthest couch from the doorway was a small table, for four people only, with a linen fabric decorating it – he figured for card games or coffee. There was a kitchen – slightly smaller than the one upstairs – and a table for about fifteen people to his left.

And then there was the bar. That was a house with a fully stocked _bar_. It was as big as the kitchen, and it had its very own wall-imbedded – and small – brick cellaret. And, next to it, there were cabinets and cabinets filled with the bottles that didn't fit there. "Your grandparents" He told Mary, who turned back to him, while he inspected the bar. "have a seriously cool house." She grinned and turned back.

Finally he noticed the double doors, leading to a backyard, that she was approaching. "Don't you ever get lost in here?" He asked teasingly, following her and putting his cap back on her head. Sun protection and all that.

She paused and took it off, staring at it for a second. Then she happily grinned at him and placed it back on her head, taking off again with a lot more cheer in her step.

He was fairly certain in his deduction that she'd appreciated the gift and that he would not be taking it back.

She produced a key from her pocket and stuck it into the lock on the doors. "These doors are always closed." She explained, giving it a shove to open – the door was rusty, he realized. Then she gave him a nervous half-smile. "Once my grandfather left it here and I, uh… took it." Grinning sheepishly, she stepped outside. "He thought he'd just lost it, and had another one made."

Nice kid. His kind of kid.

Chuckling, he shielded his eyes from the sun and noticed the blush on her cheeks as she stopped to turn to him. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Now that they were outside, he realized that this was an alternative entrance to the house – he fifth he'd known about so far. There were stairs leading to another gate – the third one he'd encountered so far – and besides a small space of stone floor around the door they'd just gone through, there was a big grass field all around them. He noticed a dog house – as big as his biggest bathroom – a few feet to his left. It looked empty. To his right was a tall stairwell that lead to a terrace in the floor above.

She grinned and after smiling back, he turned to inspect the lock of the door. It wasn't easy – it was a door to the outside after all - but it _was _the back door, so it wasn't impossible to pick.

He turned back to Mary and they kept going. He realized his previous assumption that there was no dog there the moment he stepped into sight of the dog house. The German Shepherd in there immediately began barking and he jumped with a yelp, to the pure delight of the young girl guiding him.

Giggling, she pointed at the door. "It's locked, don't worry. Honestly, I don't know why my grandparents keep a dog." She shrugged. "They never let him out. But I think my granddad has lived with one for so long, that he immediately buys another once one dies." She kept walking, to Tony's surprise, in the direction of the dog. "That's the second dog I've known in this house."

Tony winced. "I'm sorry."

She turned to him with a smile. "Oh, don't worry. I only remember him barely. He died when I was three."

"Remembering that far back is impressive." He told her, inspecting the ground for any footprints, looking up only to flash her a grin.

She grinned happily, turning back with reddened cheeks in time to catch his smile. She was being ten times more open than she was fifteen minutes ago. Tony realized she just needed a little attention. "Thanks. He was cuter when he came, smaller. I could actually play with him with_out _getting knocked to the ground." She grinned.

The dog barked again. Big dog, for his age. "What's his name?" He asked, as they approached the door where the dog's muzzle was peeking through the holes. There was a stone floor around the dog house that matched the one in front of the door they'd used. The smell suddenly became pointedly prominent, and Tony couldn't help but twitch his nose with a grimace.

"Rex." Mary answered, turning right to follow a smaller patch that led to a darkened spot – because of the tree coverage - next to the house. "It's Latin for 'king'."

"Oh. That's an impressive name." He mumbled, not paying much attention by now, focusing more on the place that was obviously where her 'secret spot' was.

Frowning, he was wondering if he shouldn't call for backup. If the killer had entered through there, and no one had searched that place yet, he didn't like the looks of the very obvious hiding place.

"Hey, honey?" He had no idea where the endearment had come from, but it fell from his lips easily, and she didn't seem to find it odd, so he pushed the thought away. "Come here for a second, okay?"

She turned back to him, and his expression must've betrayed something. A flash of understanding seemed to run behind her eyes, and they widened as she took a hastened step back. She didn't make a sound, and Tony was left impressed by the bright girl as she took a place behind him.

He didn't like that much, since it gave him no visibility over her, but it was the best he could do for then. They'd spoken, and therefore, if anyone was there, they'd alerted them for their presence, so there was little sense in calling someone. Not wanting to alarm Mary, he didn't take his weapon out of its holster, but kept his hand there just in case.

Even the dog had fallen silent as Tony took a few quiet steps into the shadows.


	2. Broken Branches and Muggle Ears

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

The house's boundaries were marked all around it by tall bush fences, on top of a cement wall. It had security cameras, the tapes of it already sent to the Yard. But he was pretty sure that that was a blind spot. There was a tree right at the corner of the dog house that provided a cover from everyone outside the safety of that 'hiding spot'. All of that, combined with the bush of the boundary, provided a covered space so tight and hidden that he knew he could be surprised if someone was in there.

Except there wasn't. Two square feet of space was all that constituted the little bubble of secrecy. The branches looked pushed back so that someone's head could fit there easily – though for a child, because he had to reduce his height to be able to be in there - and the ground was stepped on, so that the grass had almost completely vanished. And it was empty.

"Is it safe to go in there?" Marian asked in a whisper. He was surprised; her voice shook, but only just, and there were no other evidence of fear otherwise. She seemed to have exceptional control over her emotions. She could make a great cop someday.

He turned, bent under the branches to look at her on the outside of the little 'secret' and relaxed her with a reassuring smile. "Absolutely. You scared whoever was here away." He grinned as she joined him.

She giggled – more weakly than before, but looking perfectly composed. "I did _not_. There was no one here, was there?" She protested with a smile.

His grin broadened – he mock huffed. "Pfft, no one ever believes what I say. You ask Ziva if she trusts my mouth." He shook his head in mock sorrow, keeping his eyes open for any evidence.

It was June, so no footprints. He'd noticed on the way there – the grass and the summer ground underneath prevented them. He didn't notice anything else. But he needed to get out and call for someone to help him with processing the place.

Only one thing left. "You did say there was a way into the house through here?" He asked Mary, who was pulling absent-mindedly on some leafs from a nearby branch.

When he spoke, her full attention came back, however. She nodded, dropping her green achievements. "Yes. There." She pointed at the farthest corner of the hiding spot. Once he understood what he was looking at, he realized that it wasn't just the corner of the hiding spot; it was the corner of the whole house.

Crouching, he crossed the small distance to it. His hand reached out to touch the bush – pushing the tiny braches to one side, he saw what Mary meant; there was easily a foot wide way in.

He deduced that, upon the construction of the house, there'd been a non-corrected mistake. The bush plant encasing the house grew around a metal grate that was the actual fence. In that spot, the fence ended a foot from the wall of the neighbor's house, leaving a foot of space protected by a three-foot tall wall and an easily manipulated plant on top of it.

It was a perfect entrance point, and that's how she'd sneaked inside and found his team.

"I've used it before to get into the house." Mary piped up again from behind him. "I don't live very far, so I'd sneak in here and stay in this spot. Mum's never found out where I went, because grandma only found me once and she didn't tell her. She freaks, though, when I go back." He had no possibly answer to that.

So, instead, he urged her to leave, because he needed to, given that his back were since killing him.

Stretching after they'd both managed to weasel out of there again, he produced a sickening _pop _from somewhere behind him and groaned. He let his arms fall, and was following Mary back to the house when he heard someone calling her name.

"Marian!" The voice was calling from an upstairs level.

Mary's head snapped up, in the direction of the tall stairs he'd noticed earlier. With a sigh, she made her way there, and, after a brief hesitation, he decided he'd probably not be able to find his way back, so he followed her up the stone, outdoor stairs to the flock of people gathered there.

It was a sort of small patio – there was an outdoors, carved table surrounded by chairs and spider webs in the middle. Tony could see more grass beyond a small gate that led from the street to that space. A door to the kitchen was to his left. From what he'd gathered, this was the most used entrance. He guessed that the people there knew the owners - probably family, like Mary.

"Marian!" A woman immediately made her way to her child, and Tony recognized the stormy look on her face as one of an overbearing mother. "What were you thinking? I told you to stay put!"

The woman shared vague resemblances with her daughter, to which Tony figured that Mary had more of her father's features. She was pretty, and held herself with a posture that spoke of many a 'Straighten up!' while growing up. Immediately, he understood Mary's behavior. The little girl was probably going through the same. He guessed that being rich had its downsides.

"Uh, excuse me, ma'am?" Tony called, stepping to Mary's side in her aid. "That was actually my fault." Offering her his most charming grin, Tony held out a hand. "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Mary here" He winked at the little girl, who offered him a dimpled smile in return. "had some very important evidence to show us. She took me to-" He stopped abruptly at the wide-eyed, alarmed look on the little girl's face. "that evidence, and we only just came back." She offered him a small smile, bubbly again.

Flustered, the woman offered him a hesitant handshake. "I'm Marguerite Laurel, I'm the owners' daughter-in-law-" She hurriedly said. Then she began asking what she actually wanted to ask. "Uh, would you mind telling me- _evidence_? She didn't see– I mean, the body-" The woman bit her lip, glancing at her daughter with a jumpy expression.

Mary's grumpy expression told him she didn't appreciate her mother thinking she wasn't capable of understanding what she was saying. Tony bit back a smile.

"No, of course not." He hurried to explain. "It was just something we needed to check out. Mary acted as my guide. She knows this house like the back of her hand, and I certainly don't. I'd be lost in there hadn't it been for her." Tony smiled a DiNozzo grin for as long as he felt Marguerite need to be reassured.

Calm again, the tension in her shoulders deflated, and she nodded with a tired smile. He could even see a reprimand brewing for wandering in store for the little girl in Marguerite's eyes. Then she looked at her daughter properly and seemed startled to see the cap. "Marian, why don't you give the Agent DiNozzo his hat back so he can get back to his job."

Reluctantly, Mary pulled the cap from her head, leaving her hair a complete mess and her mother looking at it with a look akin to horror. Chuckling, Tony took the cap from the little girl's hand and put it back on her head, enticing a grin from her. "Keep it. Maybe one day you'll be able to use it officially." Mary was positively beaming as he walked away, chattering animatedly as she prodded information from her livid mother about NCIS.

He managed to find his team quickly enough after that, since, after entering the kitchen, he'd walked through a door to his right – which was the general direction he assumed he needed to go – he found himself in the second hall Mary had lead him through. Meaning it was only a question of going to where he could see Ziva and McGee working through the glass doors to the first hall, and then the glass doors to the crime scene.

By now, he'd found three ways of going to the same place, so he was about ready to leave the head-ache inducing labyrinth.

He paused, however, when he heard raised voices from Ziva and Tim. He was not exactly yelling, but he wasn't whispering either, and he could see his face contracted in annoyance. Ziva's back were turned, so he couldn't see her expression. They hadn't seen him yet, so he hid behind the wall next to the glass doors, still hearing them perfectly.

"I'm just saying," McGee said tightly. "you looked, well-"

"What, McGee? I looked _what_?" _Ooh, danger there, Probie. Careful how you answer that one._

"Jeez, Ziva!" The younger agent said exasperatedly. Tony could almost imagine him throwing his hands up. "I'm not accusing you of a capital offence, for God's sake! There's no need to look so- so- _explosive_!"

"What_ are_ you accusing me of, exactly, McGee?" Her voice reeked with boiling anger under a calm lid. Tony began to frown. What had McGee done, exactly?

"I'm not accusing you of _anything_. It was just a comment! Jesus, forget I said anything!"

"I will. And you better not say anything like that again." She snapped. They fell silent. Tony felt like that was his opportunity to enter, seeing as he was seemingly not going to get any information from their fight.

"Like what, Zee-vah?" Tony strolled into the living room, noting the lack of the body – Ducky must've already arrived and left, and that McGee had taken over the pictures when he'd left.

To his utter shock, Ziva started. She didn't jump of course, but the blood swab in her hand almost had to be redone. His shock derived mostly of the fact that McGee _hadn't _jumped, which made Ziva's reaction even stranger.

"Nothing. McGee just said something irritatingly inaccurate." She snapped, standing up with as much dignity as she could and turning away from him, effectively cutting the conversation short.

McGee made his protest known by rolling his eyes with a noise from his throat that spoke annoyance, but didn't say anything to contradict her.

Tony shrugged. His curiosity was less important – at least at the moment – than his need to pacify his partner. "Well, McGee says stupid things all the time." He mock-reminded her. "That's hardly news, is it?"

His efforts were, in his opinion, well-rewarded by her small smile and McGee's defeated sigh. And all was well again.

"We are done here." Ziva announced, zipping up the last bag of evidence.

"Yep." McGee took his last picture, and turned off the camera.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Has Gibbs been here yet?"

Ziva paused. "No." She sighed, turning back toward the room again. "We are not done yet."

"Nope." McGee agreed.

As if on cue, Gibbs entered the room. "What do we have?" Was the first thing out of his mouth.

Tony immediately jumped into action. "Single shot to the heart, Boss, most likely cause of death." He moved toward the mess. "Killer was standing about here," He positioned himself on the side of the table opposite from the body. "judging from the splatter and angle, and the velocity Ducky estimated. She had her back turned, maybe going to reach for something. But the door was still closed, so the bullet shattered the glass and a decorative plate here." He pointed at the affected area. "That's about it."

"Owners?" Was Gibbs' answer.

"As far as we could tell," Ziva took over, taking a step forward. "they had no connection to the victim, and they don't seem to know a thing. We don't know what she was doing here."

Gibbs crouched over the blood on the floor. "Do we have ID?"

"Yes, Petty Officer Lyla Lauren, twenty-six, on duty for three years. No relatives, single, no children." McGee rattled off from memory.

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked, satisfied with whatever he found on the floor.

"Uh, a possible entry point, I needed a kit to run it." Tony added. Gibbs turned to him with raised eyebrows, staring for about two seconds before Tony got a move on. "Going now, Boss!"

He grabbed Ziva, who looked surprised, and whatever he needed, and dragged her off through the same way the little girl had taken him before.

"McGee?" Gibbs prodded. It took the junior agent a while to realize that his boss wanted an explanation to Tony's take off just then.

"Uh, a girl got in here through the entrance Tony just mentioned. It's apparently hidden, so it hasn't been processed yet. Tony asked Marian – the girl – to lead him there, and he just came back."

Gibbs turned back to the doorway, making her way out of the division. "Pack up and get to the Navy Yard. I need everything you can get on Lauren." Gibbs paused at the doorway, and McGee heard the smirk in his voice, even though his back were turned. "And make sure you say no more comments on Ziva's soft spots." And he disappeared.

McGee blinked. His mind reminded him of the words that had suddenly turned Ziva into a screeching, bristling cat. _You ever think about having one of your own? Possibly with Tony?_

He'd been teasing, referring to the little girl and the look Ziva was giving both Marian and her partner. Obviously he had been way too bold, and regretted ever saying it as soon as Ziva got a word out.

He really shouldn't dwell on his boss' words. It usually led to places he didn't want to be in.

"Someone definitely came through there." Were DiNozzo's first words as he reentered the living room, some time after, Ziva close behind. "Broken branches – recent. Mary wouldn't have broken them, the space's enough for her. But someone bigger would have."

McGee was almost ready to go back to the truck, and when his coworkers entered he stood up, rubbing his forehead against the heat. "Anyone else know about it?"

"Her grandmother, but I doubt she's been doing some climbing lately." Tony's tone was not so much sarcastic as it was defensive. McGee glanced at him. Apparently he'd had some bonding time with 'Mary'. Huh. Obviously Ziva wasn't the only one with weak spots. "Where's Gibbs?" He changed the subject at McGee's look.

"Left. And we're supposed to follow, so help me with this, will you?" McGee gestured at the things on the floor.

Before Tony had time to give him a you-are-so-doing-that-on-your-own, sarcastic retort at that, though, three undisguised and very loud _pop_s were heard from outside the division.

Immediately, the three agents' hands dropped to their guns. Quickly and effectively, they organized themselves in a formation, releasing the safety on the weapons. McGee and Ziva stayed on either side of the door to the living room and Tony went through, clearing the hall before a sudden crash and muffled cursing sounded from the office to their right. Exchanging a look, the three agents followed the noise, positioning themselves in the same way as before in front of the door to the office.

Instead of going through immediately, though, they paused, straining their ears to pick up the poorly concealed whispering.

"I swear to God," A British voice, the one that seemed to make the better attempt at being inconspicuous, snapped quietly. "I am changing partners. _Do you know the meaning of silent, Ron?!_" He hissed, and the room fell quiet. Tony peeked through the crack that the door was opened, which allowed him to see three people inside.

They were searching, as fast and efficiently as they could, the entire room, trying hard to make their noise minimum. The first thing that caught his attention about them was their dressing code. They were all wearing robes. Real, actual robes, which covered them from their shoulders to their feet. One – male – was wearing a deep green one, glasses and unruly, jet-black hair. The red-haired one – also a male – was wearing a plain black one, which seemed the safest choice in the presence of his hair. Then there was the brown-haired girl, back turned as she rummaged through a drawer, who was wearing a dark red one.

They were young, he noticed, as soon as he was able to stop staring at their choice of outfit. Mid-twenties, at the most. And they were behaving nervously. Well, he would be too, if he'd broken into a crime scene. He thought he could safely assume that it had been Green Robes there berating the red-haired one, because, of the three, he seemed to be the only one worrying about glancing at the door from time to time.

"Harry," The red-haired whispered in annoyance. "It's a Muggle house. _No one_ is going to come crashing through the door." What?

'Harry' tore his eyes from the door to glare at him. "Muggles have _ears _as good as you and me, mate. And, frankly, I'm rather sure that you've given them something to use them for, when you broke that jar." He pointed at a perfectly intact piece of porcelain that stood on a decorative table in the middle of the room. Tony blinked.

In an obvious attempt to cut their argument short, the other girl closed the drawer carefully and turned to the other two. "I still don't understand why I had to come, though, Harry."

That did it. 'Harry' and 'Ron' turned to her, looking mollified, and 'Harry' even managed a small grin. "Because it's been too long since the three of us – _just _the three of us – have been together to pull a stunt like this, Hermione! You can't say you haven't missed it." Ron said, and his voice was overbearingly cheerful.

'Hermione' rolled her eyes and picked another drawer to search through. Harry turned back to the closet he was pulling old, unused clothes and shaking them as if expecting something to drop out of them. Ron entered the bathroom, shrugging. "Fine. But you still didn't deny it." Were his last words before the doorway swallowed him.

And then sudden lights began zapping, as if laser beams, inside that same bathroom.

He assumed the other two would jump, yell run to see if their friend was okay. No, actually. Harry ignored it and Hermione rolled her eyebrows weakly, as if she was tired of doing it, and rubbed her forehead, as if she had a headache. "Ron, _I told you already_, there's no point in doing that. It's protected!" The exasperation in her voice was bordering painful, but the lights stopped.

A not-so-gentle nudge from Ziva reminded him that they had a job to do, and it wouldn't get done by itself while Tony stood there gaping. Shaking his head and deciding that he shouldn't try to think through what he'd heard and seen until the day he _wanted _a migraine, he kicked the door open, with the usual yell of 'NCIS! Hands above your head!" Ziva and McGee followed.

Harry immediately whirled around, hand flying downwards to the place where people usually kept a weapon, and Tony focused his gun on him. Hermione had raised her hands immediately, while Ron had scrambled into the room to find Ziva's eyes trained on him with a warning expression. One glance at his bushy-haired companion, however, and he mimicked her.

To Tony's surprise, Harry, after getting a good look of the three federal agents, immediately complied with his orders, hand leaving his hip and flying to the hair. The three allowed themselves to be cuffed and searched, and, before the NCIS MCRT had found anything on them, the only noise made was a comment from Hermione. "I remember now why I stopped _pulling stunts _with you two. They _always _end badly." She snapped at Ron.

Tony's lips quirked up at that, but then he pulled something from Harry's waistband and a look of confusion replaced the smile. The inspected the piece of wood in bewilderment. "Uh… Just out of curiosity, were you planning to poke me to death with this?" He asked the kid, who was uneasily looking from him to the stick and back again.

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't answer, so Tony shrugged and bagged it, noticing that Ziva and McGee had retrieved similar things from the other two. Ziva had her eyebrows raised, and McGee was staring at the one he'd taken from Ron with a look of pure concentration, as if he might be able to figure out its secrets with sheer will power. Hermione was frowning, as if she was able to conceal the worry in her expression by scrunching up her eyebrows hard enough, and Ron was visibly glaring. Tony slapped McGee's head to 'concentrate him' and he bagged the wooden piece, glowering back at the senior agent.

At that, Hermione tilted her head to one side, worry pushed away by sudden interest. "Hey, what you just did-" She addressed Tony, who looked at her with a charming smile. She was still a pretty woman after all. She seemed unfazed by it. "Does it work only on Agent…" She trailed off, now looking at McGee.

"McGee." He answered stiffly, cheeks gaining a reddened factor. Tony grinned – they were amusing, so he supposed the trip back wouldn't be so bad. "And no, it works better on _Agent DiNozzo_" His tone was mocking. "when it's our boss doing it."

"Very funny, McGee." Tony, who was no longer in favor of continuing the conversation, urged Harry to follow McGee and Ron, who were leaving the room. Neither Harry not Ron seemed amused by the path the conversation had taken either, glancing at Hermione apprehensively.

By then, however, Tony had reached the conclusion that the girl was trying to make them warm up to the trio and possibly ease them into a false sense of security, so he read their rights and encouraged them to keep quiet after that by keeping quiet himself. That was not an excuse to _not _to have McGee further talk about Gibbs' head slaps, of course, but rather following protocol like he was supposed to. Ziva and her smirk just didn't get that.


	3. Forgotten Meetings and Angry People

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

The ride back to NCIS was, thankfully, a lot shorter than the one from. Once they got there and put the suspects in interrogation, they briefed Gibbs on what'd happened and then awaited orders. Which, surprisingly, took a while.

When he returned, he was accompanied by the Director, and his expression was beyond irritated. Tony managed to catch his last sentence before they entered the room and fell silent for the benefit of his three agents. "_... wonder why I don't usually brief you immediately, Jen?_" Gibbs' voice was snappish.

"Why are you all here?" Gibbs asked upon entrance, raising his eyebrows at the sight of Tony, McGee and Ziva in front of the interrogation window, staring through it at Harry on the other side. "Last I checked, we had three suspects."

Tony looked flustered. "Uh, yeah, Boss, but, you know, this one looks like the-" Gibbs was already leaving. "the leader."

"So you're sitting, staring at the one who's possibly the last person to give up anything, DiNozzo?" He vanished out the door before Tony opened his mouth to answer.

He turned to see Jenny staring at him with her lips quirked in amusement. "I just- I wasn't talking to him _because _he was the last person to give up anything. But I wanted to see what he did when no one was watch- It was Probie's idea." He changed his voice into a complacent, hurried tone at the last bit.

Ziva snorted, and McGee didn't even bother to protest, rendered to a frustrated grumble. Jenny rolled her eyes, and right at that moment Gibbs blew open the door to the interrogation room they were all staring at. He wasn't carrying a thing, which struck Tony as odd.

Gibbs sat in the chair in front of Harry, and the young man kept his eyes on him, but remained silent and expressionless.

"What's your name?" Was Gibbs' first question, leaning against his chair, fingers of both hands entwined on his lap.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed, and he exchanged a surprised glance with Ziva. "We haven't gotten a hit yet?"

McGee shook his head. "Foreigners. Taking longer than usual." He crossed his arms, looking slightly defensive at the attack on his equipment. He was spending too much time with Abby, which was just asking for her habits to rub off on him. Next he'd name his computer.

Harry, Tony noticed, had an excellent poker face, and seemed prepared to be interrogated. His features didn't change a fraction of a millimeter, and he said nothing. Bold, when you were being drilled by Gibbs.

"That's alright, _Harry_. It was a rhetorical question." Gibbs informed him smoothly. "Facial recognition is very handy."

Harry's lips quirked upwards. He seemed to find the situation amusing, and not at all unfamiliar. "Facial recognition on foreigners is a tad less, though, isn't it?" His voice carried, low and friendly, dangerously provocative to a person like Gibbs.

Gibbs tilted his head sideways with a smirk. "Yes, it certainly is. But, thankfully, your friends are in a room next to yours, and they were a little more willing to cooperate." Bluffing. They hadn't even spoken to them yet.

Harry's teasing smile became a full-blown grin. "That's about as likely as Agent DiNozzo suddenly deciding that your back is too lead-less." He gave an acknowledging smile at the glass, looking directly at Tony.

He had full trust in his colleagues, then. Great. That made this a lot more difficult.

Then he processed the sentence properly. "How does he know that? He's never even met Gibbs, and I've asked him _one _question. Which he didn't even bother to answer." Tony asked quietly.

It was supposed to be a rhetorical question, so he was surprised when Jenny answered. "He has met Gibbs."

The three of them turned to her. "What do you mean? Gibbs clearly does not know him." Ziva exclaimed, glancing at Tony for confirmation. He gave her a mystified look back, which seemed to reassure her, and she turned back to the Director.

"No, he doesn't." Was all she said. And then she quieted.

After a heart-beat of silence spent by the three agents staring at each other as if they had the answers, Tony turned to Jenny again, who was staring at Gibbs, who was staring thoughtfully at Harry, who was still looking amused and thoroughly relaxed. The director was pointedly informing Tony the conversation was over.

He didn't pick up on that very well. "Uh… Are you going to expla- You're not going to explain that." He understood at her glare. "Okay."

His last word was drowned out by Gibbs' voice finally breaking the silence. "Well, I wouldn't know. I can be harsh with him sometimes."

Tony preened, and Ziva chuckled. "I think you should wait until he comes out of there and finishes that thought, Tony." She teased. He narrowed his eyes at her playfully in a mock-crossed look, and she laughed louder, which made him crack a smile.

Gibbs spoke again, and they turned back to the glass, feeling the heat getting to them a little harder. "You sure you weren't a little too hard on them back at the house, there, _Potter_?" It was a subtle hint that maybe the other two hadn't kept as quiet as he was being – though Harry still looked as though he was sharply aware that the older man was still bluffing.

Tony started at that, and Ziva and McGee seemed surprised too. "His last name's Potter? How does Gibbs know that?"

Then he noticed that Jenny looked impassive, as if that wasn't unexpected. Before he could start with the questions again, Harry answered Gibbs with a relaxed smile. "You've spoken to your Director, then. Last time, it took you longer. You'd spoken with Ron before trying me."

_What?_ "Director?" Tony's tone was no longer playful. This was starting to become worrying. "You know something." It wasn't a question. "I think both us and Gibbs need to know what."

His assumption that Gibbs didn't know what they were talking about either was based on the fact that he'd just slammed the door to the interrogation room and was already entering the viewing room. On the other side, Harry crossed his arms, leaning back with a smile.

"Well, _Director_?" Gibbs' voice was quiet and dangerous. "You gonna answer that?"

Jenny turned back to Gibbs and the words 'battle of wills' sprang to Tony's mind. The Director crossed her arms and Gibbs just stood there impatiently waiting, sure in his assumption that he was getting the information he wanted. Tony was actually as sure as his Boss was.

Jenny sighed and dropped her arms. "I hate doing this." She muttered, looking a lot less official.

"Doing _what_, Jen?" Gibbs asked, impatience sharpening his voice.

She looked at the four people, alone in the room. "Having to tell you this."

"Why would you hate telling us… _what_?" By now exasperation was filling even McGee's voice. Tony and Ziva kept quiet, knowing their boss needed no assistance in getting information out of the director.

Jenny pursed her lips, looking at Gibbs. "As the Director of a federal agency, I am read in on a number of things none of you are."

"Is that your way of saying _it's classified_?" Gibbs interrupted, pointedly staring at her in that familiar way of his.

"No." She dragged the word in a perfectly calm tone. "I wanted to tell you before you went in there, but you ignored me. I told you to gather everyone in my office."

Gibbs' expectant gaze prodded her to get on with it. She rolled her eyes, leaning against the glass and crossing her arms again. "You've met him-" she pointed her thumb backwards in the direction of the kid gazing into the ceiling with a vacant expression. "and Ron Weasley, who is the red-haired guy in the next room, before."

"I think I'd remember if I'd ever seen either of them before." Gibbs said after a few seconds of silence.

Her eyes met his for a second before turning away in discomfort. "You wouldn't. Your memories, along with Agents' DiNozzo and McGee and Officer David, have been erased of that occasion. Abby and Ducky's as well." The low pitch of her voice made her revelation sound even more ridiculous in the small, empty room.

"Hit your head, Jen?" Gibbs asked lightly. Jenny sent him an irritated glare, her arm twitching – whether to reach for a non-existent gun or to bite her nails Tony wasn't sure.

"No, Jethro, I haven't, thank you for your concern." Nasty. If they were starting to use sarcasm with each other in front of him, Ziva and McGee, the situation was really bad. Jenny's voice turned serious again. "I am telling the truth."

"That we were somehow brain-washed?" Tony asked quietly. The mood was suddenly frosty cold.

"No, DiNozzo, because I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." Gibbs' voice was matter-of-fact, but Tony recognized the fierceness underneath it as he burned a hole into the director. "I would like to know, however, why our Director seems under the conviction that we were."

"Because you were. And… I can't say you allowed it." Regret flashed across her face before a perfect mask of impassiveness appeared again. "But you had no choice; and you couldn't very well fight it anyway."

"Excuse me? Why not?" Gibbs' anger was igniting at her obviously truthful tone.

"Because you can't fight magic with bullets."

Well, no argument to that statement.

Gibbs just stared at her, seemingly at a loss of any other response. So Jenny continued her explanation, still not looking at any of them. "The gentlemen and woman you picked up at the crime scene are wizards. Very important ones, as a matter of fact, according to what I've been told. Additionally, you have about fifteen minutes before their friends" She said friends as a very distasteful word. "come get them and-" Her voice faltered for the first time, and she swallowed, eyes flying across the room. "erase your memories again." That said, she shut up and stared blankly at the wall in front of her.

Even Gibbs had trouble kicking into gear after that. His eyes never left her face, and a quick look around the room told him that neither had anyone else's. Ziva had her hand held up to the wall – weird, he'd never known the Israeli to need physical support – and McGee was just looking at everyone in wide-eyed shock.

So he left with one word. "DiNozzo." Tony immediately took off after him. He assumed the older man was just trying not to think about it too much.

"On your six, Boss." Was his hard-wired answer.

And they entered the interrogation room they'd been watching.

The moment Gibbs' behind hit the chair, he was asking a question. "What were you doing at my crime scene?" The door opened again, and Jenny entered. Gibbs didn't even look up.

Potter glanced at Jenny, who nodded. "I was picking up an artifact. I was supposed to be delivering it" He glanced at his watch. Tony must have been needing some serious sleep, because he could swear it was made of hovering little planets. "an hour ago, as a matter of fact."

Gibbs' eyebrow twitched. If he was letting it show in his features, he was really pissed. "Really? So you're a magic looter?"

Potter smiled without humor. "Funny, agent Gibbs." Gibbs seemed to decide to ignore the fact that he knew his name.

"So that _artifact_" He continued, standing up._ "_just happened to be sitting at a murder scene? That didn't make you slightly wary?"

"No."

"Why not?" Gibbs placed both hands on the table next to Potter, head turned to him.

Potter met his gaze unflinchingly, and something in his eyes made Tony expect him to say that his wariness of dead bodies had faded a long time ago. His answer, however, was different. "Because I inspected the scene earlier, and the murder was exclusively non-magical. So it had nothing to do with us. As far as I'm concerned, we would've gone our separate ways without having to cross paths again. If it weren't for you meddling kids, of course." Potter's lips twitched, and the carefree, non-death related humor was back to his eyes.

That made DiNozzo grin, and take that opportunity to introduce the good cop, bad cop attitude. "Hey, I can appreciate a good movie reference." Potter looked at him with an easy grin, but he could tell he was perfectly aware of his intentions. Tough guy to break. Even his body posture was mute. Like he'd been trained, somehow.

"Why that house?" Gibbs snapped, slamming a hand on the table to regain Potter's attention. To his credit, he didn't even flinch, calmly looking up to meet his eyes again.

"Because it's unsuspecting. It's sort of a safe-house."

"Safe-house?" Tony frowned, leaning against the wall. "So the owners-"

"Don't know a thing about me," He immediately interrupted. "or your murder, by the way." He added. "We were supposed to pick the thing up when they were on vacation, and the house was empty. It was just a random place that could be used for that. Our Ministry's been using that system for a while now."

"Yeah, well," Gibbs began, not attempting to conceal his sarcasm. "they returned from their vacation today to find a dead Petty Officer in their living room and three magicians trashing their office." Gibbs sat back down on the other side of the table.

"Wizards. And we didn't trash it. And they didn't find us. Your agents did." Potter blinked, as if the sudden urge for corrections was foreign to him. "Wow. Hermione's _really _getting to me."

Gibbs' glare shut him up. "If you were supposed to pick it up during their vacation, how come you arrived on the day they returned?"

He finally showed some actual emotion – he made a face. "That's hardly my fault, is it? The intel was faulty. Not really a first." He said, as if it was a constant annoyance. Hear the guy talking, you'd think he worked for a government of some sort.

"What intel? Given by whom?" Gibbs annoyance was starting to show in the form of a growl.

Potter smiled politely, but his eyes actually betrayed sympathy. "That would take more time to explain than the amount you still have with me."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him. Then he narrowed his eyes at the director. Then he narrowed his eyes at the glass, and Tony really hoped the two agents still behind it understood that he was telling them to go talk with the other two while they still could. If both Jenny and Potter agreed that they couldn't be able to talk to him for long, which meant she _hadn't_ just hit her head extra-hard.

At least, in Gibbs' mind. Tony would never, ever say or think something like that.

Regardless of any of that, Gibbs apparently didn't want to waste his time with it, not at the time. He had no intention of turning over the suspects until he was done with them, of course, but he wanted to make sure he had as much information as he could before whoever it was arrived.

"Why did you say that the owners didn't know anything about the murder?" Gibbs continued, leaning over the table.

"Because I heard the murder. Saw a bloke leaving through the bushes at the northeast corner if the house." Potter said, shrugging.

Any semblance of trust Gibbs might've developed shattered at the harsh glare he gave the man. "Were you going to bother telling me that soon, Potter?"

"It won't matter. You won't remember, and any tapes there are of me will be modified." He warned, and his eyes fluttered to Jenny, before landing on Gibbs again. He offered an apologetic look. "I'm very sorry agent Gibbs. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure the evidence you've got will be more than enough to solve the murder."

Gibbs ignored all of that. "What did you _see_?"

Potter sighed; he looked very reluctant as he started speaking. He'd been over the house as a scout under an 'Invisibility Cloak' – Gibbs had seemed ready to head-slap him at that – and had seen a woman and a man entering through the 'secret entrance'. He heard the shot not long afterwards.

Gibbs sent his team to run what Potter had said. Surprisingly, he was right – they really hadn't needed his statement. Abby's forensics, McGee's background checks and Ducky's findings were more than enough to close the case.

Apparently Lauren had had the same idea as Potter and his friends. Using the place as a safe-house, she was hiding in there because she'd found the entrance while running from her ex-husband – whom she'd filled a restraint order against. Abby had found blood on a broken branch at the place Mary had shown Tony, from a cut it'd made on that same ex. The marks on the bullet matched an unregistered – illegal – gun found at his apartment, and a shoe mark on the body was matched to the shoes he was _still _wearing when picked up. Tony figured that Lauren had been under the impression that she'd lost him, so she was admiring the things in the cabinet, hence her back being turned.

They hadn't needed Potter's matching description of him.

And Potter and his two friends stayed for a lot longer than predicted by both Jenny and them. Other than the occasional uneasy glance at the door, though, Potter still seemed completely relaxed. Granger was biting her lip, her eyes permanently glued to the glass, and Weasley was pacing around the room and looking annoyed.

Neither of the other two had had anything to add to Potter's testimony, except Granger, who told them she was Mrs. Weasley and not Ms. Granger anymore (which Gibbs had barked at McGee to add to what they knew about her). Once they'd been told that the MCRT had been somewhat read in – even if they didn't buy a word of it – they'd shrugged and answered every question truthfully.

Eventually, Tony found himself alone with Ziva in the bullpen, throwing a pencil into the air and catching it. His expression was thoughtful, and, somehow, he found himself with his eyes on his partner.

The rest of the precinct was unusually quiet, lacking the usual sounds of the bustling agents, consultants, analysts and specialists. It was almost as if the building was giving them a wide berth to process the weirdness going on around them. Or maybe it was just because it was past ten o'clock. Nobody on the team had wanted to leave and not know what was going on, exactly. It was all making less and less sense, which brought to his mind another weird thing he had, for his own sake, refused to think about.

He needed to tell _someone _what he saw in that office. The lights… Just so that he could be told he wasn't crazy. Because if Jenny wasn't just playing a really elaborate joke on them… The laser beams might have something to do with… magic.

Yeah, he really felt sane right then.

He frowned, staring at Ziva for a moment, wondering if she'd admit him into a mental facility. Then, he refused to let the promise of insanity prevent him from talking to her, and he pushed the hesitation away. He cleared his throat. Ziva looked up at him questioningly.

He stood up, made his way to his partner's desk, and leant against it. Pausing, he took in Ziva's raised eyebrows and decided to just talk before losing courage. "Uh… Ziva?" He began.

Ziva rolled her eyes, and replied patiently. "Yes, Tony?" She put down her pen, which she was actually using to do paperwork.

He paused again, and saw the flash of irritation behind her eyes. He hurriedly began speaking. "If I told you that- that I don't think the Director is gone off the deep end completely, and saw something at the house that corroborated what she said, would you tell me I'm crazy?"

Ziva gazed at him – to his surprise, she didn't seem to be questioning his sanity. She let hesitation color her features for a moment before speaking slowly. "I- No, I would not." She bit her lip. "You are talking about the strange lights in the bathroom of the office. Right?" Now she was looking at him as if she were expecting _him _to call her crazy.

His eyes widened comically. "Yes! I mean-" He spoke in a rush, apparently determined to get as much information available in the smallest amount of time possible. "You saw it too?"

She nodded slowly, not meeting his eyes. "You did not say anything, so I thought you had not seen anything either…" She tugged at her sleeve. "I don't think McGee saw a thing. My position allowed me to see it. I even checked the bathroom when you weren't looking at me – there was nothing out of the ordinary there."

Tony drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. "So… Either both us, Jenny, and the three trespassers we picked up are completely crazy with the same hallucination, or-" He trailed off.

"Jenny is telling the truth." Ziva finished, finally looking up to meet his eyes. She looked thankful and relieved that she wasn't out of her mind, apparently.

"Or you all _did _hit your heads." Gibbs appeared out of nowhere, making his way to his desk.

Tony glanced at his partner to see her already staring at him, in a silent urge for him to start talking to their boss. Sometimes he thought he needed to stop pointing out that he was senior agent – they were really taking advantage of that. Why couldn't Ziva be on the wrong end of Gibbs' wrath for once?

Yeah, sane.

He approached Gibbs' desk reluctantly, and waited in front of it until he finally looked up in irritation. "Something on your mind, DiNozzo?" He asked, making sure his senior agent knew he was not to talk about what he was there to talk about.

He cleared his throat, trying to delay the inevitable as long as he could. "Uh… So, what did Jenn- Director Shepard say about the-" He glanced at Ziva for support - though why he did that was a subject he needn't focus on – and looked back at their boss with a nervous smile. "wizards?"

Gibbs gave him an unamused glare, unimpressed. "Potter, Weasley and Granger are still in interrogation. No one has come by to pick them up, and Director Shepard" He spared a sliver of his glare at the office upstairs. "has not said anything regarding the subject. I can hold them for forty-eight hours and I will." He turned back to Tony, narrowing his eyes. "That a problem, DiNozzo?"

He never had a chance to answer. A British voice did it for him, from the entrance of the bullpen. "Actually, yes, that would be a problem."

A heavily pregnant, heavily glaring red-haired woman was standing there, arms crossed over her protruding belly. Ziva immediately stood up, warily looking at Tony and Gibbs before approaching the woman. "Excuse me, I'm Officer Ziva David. May I ask what you are doing up here?" She asked politely, though with a hint of warning.

The woman didn't take her eyes off the male special agents. "My name is Ginny Potter. You're currently holding, for no reason, my husband, my brother and one of my best friends. And I was directed, by security downstairs, to Agent Gibbs." Her glower could almost match Gibbs'. "Which I assume is you." She gestured at the team leader.

Tony glanced at the boss. He wasn't glaring anymore, and he supposed that that was because Ginny looked ready to go into labor.

"I presume Mr. Potter is your husband." Gibbs stood up, making his way to her.

She scowled – the woman was angry. "Well, he's this way." He said, when it was obvious she wasn't going to answer. And Gibbs led her toward the interrogation rooms. But not before he couldn't send a glare in their general direction – which Tony interpreted as _run her_.

He added the name Ginny Potter nee Weasley – if Potter was her husband, then Weasley was her brother – to the list of people they were requesting information about. Which wasn't going so well, because they were having trouble finding activity on any of them.

"Ziva!" Ducky was making his way to them from the elevator, and the old man's usually kind expression was replaced by a look of anger and worry, which he wasn't succeeding in masking very well. "Tony!" And he was so flustered he'd used Tony's nickname. Bad. "Where is Gibbs?" He asked tightly. Gibbs' last name too. Danger.

"Uh, he just left with a suspect's wife to the interrogation room." Tony answered, pointing at the general area. "Why?"

Ducky glared at him – wow, he was _really _pissed. "Because, apparently, my memory has been _modified_, and I don't happen to like it! And I would like to know _what _is going on!"

Tony shrugged helplessly. "You're barking at the wrong tree, Ducky. I know as much as you do, and that Gibbs is under the impression that Jenny has had a bad concussion." Tony looked at the Director's office ponderingly. "Why don't you go talk to her? She seems to think that she knows what's going on."

Ducky followed Tony's gaze and nodded. "I will. But I think you should be warned – Abigail has heard what I've heard as well. And she is _not _happy." And he left, determined strides taking him in the direction Tony had been looking at.

Tony winced, and even Ziva grimaced. If Abby was coming up, and there was no Gibbs to both be on the receiving end of her wrath and placate her, the bullpen was a bad place for them to be.

On silent agreement, they'd taken off to the interrogation rooms again.


	4. Interrupted Somethings and Mock Memories

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

Gibbs was once again in the observation room in front of Potter, and Tony heard before he saw that he was having a fierce shouting match with the _other _Potter. Well, not exactly a match; more like he was on the receiving end of Ginny's voice, which didn't seem like fun. Man, the guy really seemed to have a soft spot for red hairs, if he was letting himself be yelled at like that.

Harry was blissfully and obliviously still staring at the ceiling, but now his expression betrayed tiredness by boredom.

"… he _hasn't _done anything, as far as you've said, and you are still keeping him! I want to take my husband _home_! My brother and his wife too!" She screeched – she had _good _pair of lungs.

Tony spared one dismayed glance at Ziva and entered the room, finding Gibbs, crossed-armed, patiently listening the red-head out.

"Your husband was trespassing in a private property, which was _also_ a crime scene. I _can _hold him." Gibbs took advantage of the window of time she used to restock on oxygen to say with a mild tone and expression.

Ginny looked ready to breathe fire. Her whole complexion seemed to redden as she glared at Gibbs. He'd never known someone to rival Gibbs' glare with so much intensity.

When Tony thought she'd explode, she closed her eyes, her face tight with strain, and exhaled slowly. "Then at least let me talk to him." Her lips were barely moving or visible, they were so thin.

Tony was pretty sure Gibbs would refuse, even if he stood, just staring at Ginny, for a long time. But then he gave a single nod.

Tony finally made himself known by clearing his throat. Gibbs, who'd probably already known he was there, didn't even look up, but Ginny's head immediately snapped around to him. "Boss, Abby's on the way up, and I think she wants to talk to you." He said, glancing at the fiery woman in front of him.

She squared her shoulders and turned back to Gibbs expectantly. "Mrs. Potter, Agent DiNozzo will show you where to enter the interrogation room." And he left.

Ginny's glare fixed on him and Tony gulped. "Uh, yeah, right this way." He held the door open as she passed, not missing Ziva's amused smirk. He repressed the urge to stick out his tongue at her.

After having successfully delivered the woman to the room three feet away, he returned to observation, where he found Ziva staring at the hugging couple on the other side of the wall.

She started when he entered, tearing her eyes away as if she was embarrassed of having been caught. He closed the door with a light _click _behind him and went to stand next to her in front of the fake mirror. Her eyes were permanently trained on the floor, and he could swear there was a light blush on her cheeks.

Even if he had thought of anything to say to that, the plan was made impossible by the conversation suddenly being initiated by the two Potters.

"So, why are you here?" Harry's voice was low in a thankless effort to keep anyone who might have been listening (like Tony and Ziva) from hearing what he was saying. "Wasn't the Ministry supposed to send someone three bloody hours ago?"

Tony had no idea what the Ministry was, and his thoughts stopped there, because if he tried to think deeply over every strange thing they said, he'd be old and grey before figuring it out by himself.

"Harry!" The woman chastised, hands landing on her stomach. "If you keep saying things like that, how are you supposed to control yourself once he's born?" Her voice was only half-teasing. Funny, you put her next to her husband and her mood is a lot better, out of a sudden. Or maybe it was taking her from the influence of the MCRT dysfunctional dynamics. "And the Ministry…" She hesitated in a way that didn't bode well. "There's been an attack."

Harry seemed to have been electrocuted, the way he jolted upwards suddenly in alarm. "Attack?" He seemed to forget about trying to be silent at that.

"Nothing happened to anyone, and they were caught." She said hurriedly, refusing to let him go any further than he had to. "But they crippled the department that deals with Muggle involvement." She shook her head. "The way people act sometimes, it's like there are some that actually _enjoyed _the time Voldemort was in charge."

She clenched her teeth furiously. "They meant to go on a panic-spreading spree around London without getting caught. Anyway, the plan fell through, the Ministry has the responsible group, and the department is back up, but you caught the blind spot. So they were convinced the op had gone smoothly, until I raised the alarm. Since they were a bit hectic over there, it's going to take time," She warned. "so I came myself." And she pulled the chair Gibbs had sat on and sat down next to her husband, who was rubbing his face vigorously.

Tony exchanged a mystified, rendered mute look with his partner. She shook her head – she hadn't understood a word either. All he'd caught was that they now had an extra few hours, apparently.

After that, Harry slumped back into his chair, smiling tiredly at her. He reached out and pulled at her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. "So what will your brother say when he hears you came to see me before him?" He asked teasingly, introducing a comfortable mood that he seemed to be in a severe lack thereof.

"I have five brothers." She answered flippantly, resting her head on his shoulder.

He laughed, beginning to trace circles on the back of her hand. And they fell into silence.

He didn't know why, how or when, but at the end of that exchange, Tony found himself a lot closer to Ziva than he'd been before. He also found himself in a staring match with her, and no idea how that'd happened either.

He didn't like that. Ziva was- Ziva was unreachable. The kind of person who he could not even dream to have – though that didn't stop him at all – and he was the kind of person who she wouldn't even consider to even dream of dreaming of having. He counted himself lucky to have gained her trust – even if, sometimes, he wasn't sure if he actually _had_ gained that (the name Rivkin came to mind) – and he counted himself lucky to be her friend. Any possibility of anything else had died the summer she spent in Somalia, also known as the _summer-that-shall-not-be-named_. Or mentioned. Or thought about, such as right then.

It reminded him of how impossibly, agonizingly fortunate he was that she was still there, in front of him, and within touching distance. And that reminder encouraged vividly – and very convincingly – his next actions, which was one of the reasons he avoided thinking about it.

"We should-" He breathed, swallowing dry and feeling sluggishly hypnotized. "We should add that five brothers part to- to the search…" His face was inches from hers when his voice trailed off, and the encouragement of those thoughts kicked in.

She licked her lips. "Mh-hm." She agreed quietly. Two inches.

The door slammed open and they jumped apart, heads snapping toward the source of the noise. Gibbs raised his eyebrows, and McGee, behind him, looked from one to the other as if wondering what had been happening, exactly. "Interrupted something?" Gibbs asked casually, entering the room without bothering to look at either of them. McGee followed more slowly.

"No, Boss, nothing. Uh, Ginny Potter has five brothers." Tony, refusing to look at Ziva, hurriedly said, flustered.

"We… haven't found anything related to that." McGee frowned at the two. Still giving sideways glances at Ziva's turned back, addressed Tony. "But we got the information on them."

Tony's eyebrows were still aiming downwards as he turned to look at the couple holding hands in front of the mirror, needing to avoid McGee's gaze. He rubbed the back of his head, apparently subconsciously. McGee came up with four very thin files.

After glancing at Tony one last time, Ziva decided to take point, since he seemed too distracted to remember.

Ziva took two of the files and Tony snapped out of it to take the other two once he saw her doing it, since Gibbs and McGee had obviously already read them. Come to think of it, she had never known Gibbs to have stayed in the same room without a proper reason before – that was a first. Or maybe he was just waiting to see if anything happened while Ginny was in the interrogation room.

She opened the file in her hands. It belonged to Harry – and it was incredibly short.

There was a birth certificate – Lilly Evans, the mother, was listed. No father in record, and no clue where his name had come from. Then, he'd disappeared; until age one, when he suddenly appeared in the system again. A death certificate of his mother was presented, to Ziva's quiet horror – no cause listed. And then, everything seemed perfectly normal for a child's bringing up with his uncle and aunt. Right up until he was eleven.

At the end of that summer, he just disappeared from records – no school, no nothing. And then, he came back, next summer, in occasional purchases and other meaningless things. And that pattern repeated itself for the next seven years, until he disappeared again the summer of '97 and never surfaced again except for very rare, again, purchases.

Stunned, Ziva turned the last page several times, as if expecting writing to begin appearing with each of her movements. "Nothing else?" She asked McGee in bewilderment.

He shook his head in conviction. His behavior suggested he'd checked several times. "Nothing. And, believe it or not, that's the fullest file of the four – except maybe for Mrs. Weasley's." McGee had been the one to be corrected on the name he used for Hermione.

"He's right." Tony's voice carried to her, and she turned to him to find his eyes on her already. "I got the Weasley siblings – zilch." He waved the file in front of her face. "Birth certificate, issued a _couple of years _ago to the both of them, no parents listed. Marriage certificate too to the both of them as well, and besides that – I got nothing."

"That is impossible." Ziva said, frowning. To his delight, however, she didn't try to double-check him, instead opening her other file, presumably on Hermione Weasley, nee Granger.

Stunned, she said aloud. "Perfectly regular birth certificate with both parents. Normal education and records until the age of eleven, where she takes up the same pattern as Potter and appears and disappears again every summer. And then," She read further. "She disappeared completely, at exactly the same time Potter did."

There was silence for a while, as the agents digested this. "Is- Is it even possible to just- disappear like this?" Ziva asked, looking around at her teammates.

Gibbs was sipping his coffee and staring at the Potters, as if completely ignoring everyone else in the room, though she knew better. Tony was staring at her, and before she could get too involved in that, she turned her head away to spot McGee – no longer invested in discovering what exactly had gone on inside the room between her and her partner – running a hand through his hair, as if her question somehow physically distressed him.

"Up until today… I would've said no..." He glanced at the files. "But now… I don't know. It's like…" He trailed off.

"Magic." Gibbs, apparently done with his coffee as he dumped in the bin, finished McGee's sentence flatly, walking through them toward the door. "McGee, run the Grangers and Lilly Eva-"

He was cut short by a shriek outside the door. "_STOP_! You _can't _do this!"

Ziva's blood chilled when he recognized Abby's voice and the clear distress it rang with. Gibbs immediately ran out the door, gun halfway out of its holster before he'd taken a step –and he took pretty fast steps. The rest of the team mimicked him, and they spilled into the hall in the smallest semblance of organization they managed to achieve in their abruptness.

And they found Abby pointing an accusing finger at… a wooden stick. Particularly, one of the sticks they'd taken from the three trespassers that same morning. That was hovering, in mid-air, still in an evidence bag, and trying to burst open the door to the interrogation room where Mrs. Weasley was being held. By hitting it, repeatedly, with its tip. It wasn't working, if anyone was wondering.

Tony had no idea if he ought to point the gun at the stick, the door, Mrs. Weasley, or himself.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and no one seemed inclined to explain anything, since _everyone_, including Gibbs, was doing the same while staring at the small, carved branch. Abby seemed a little less like she'd been hit with a stun gun, though, probably since she'd visibly been following the thing all the way from her lab, where it should still have been.

"Uh, Boss?" Tony called weakly, hand shaking – not from the familiar weight of his weapon. "How about we give the Director's explanation another shot, huh?"

Gibbs didn't answer. Instead, he strolled forward – and for the first time in his life, Tony saw Gibbs hesitating before making a move – and then firmly grasped the offending piece of wood. When it made nothing explode, or turn everything pink, or some other horrible thing, Tony was almost shocked speechless. Then he turned, and marched off in the direction of Jenny's office. Everyone else, including an unusually quiet Abby, followed.

Gibbs ignored Cynthia and blasted open the office's door once he got there. Abby closed it gently as she entered last.

Their entrance had obviously interrupted something Ducky was about to say, and the two people in there were staring at them in silence. Gibbs stepped forward and dropped the evidence in Jenny's desk, where it fell still, obviously no longer attempting to go to its owner.

The silence was thick and heavy, and Gibbs' only fiery angered words didn't help matters any. "Explain. Now." It was an invitation for her to spill any bullshit that Gibbs would never believe in unless he'd seen the flying wand (Tony refused to ignore reality any further – pretty mature for a guy who congratulates himself on maturely naming something in his head. Even if that something was a freaking wand.)

And for the rest of the day, the almost… _something _with Ziva became unimportant.

Jenny took off her glasses warily, sitting at her desk. Ducky had fallen silent, seemingly willing to see where the water would flow. He probably figured he'd get his answers more easily if it was Gibbs doing the questioning.

Ziva scrutinized the tired-looking woman behind the mahogany desk. Her eyes were fixed on Gibbs, and she could see that though she'd tried to maintain a carelessly detached position regarding both the… magic, and the apparent problem with their memories, the whole ordeal was getting to her more than she was showing.

She looked ready to break, and Gibbs must have sensed that too, because his aggressive, stiffened posture relaxed the tiniest fraction. But she knew he had no intention of leaving the matter unfinished.

Tony was looking edgily from one of his bosses to the other. For a moment, she felt as though she wouldn't be surprised if he started balancing on his tip-toes. McGee was chewing on his cheek, and Ducky was staring in silence. Abby was still staring at the piece of wood she'd probably been analyzing, and her glare and dark mutterings promised the offending item a nasty future. It'd run off on Abby, now it had to pay the consequences.

Wow. Maybe she _had _hit her head.

Gibbs broke the silence again to make his dramatic entrance a little less of a… well, dramatic thing. "Jenny. I want to know what's going on."

She rubbed her forehead and she was suddenly a young woman in love with her partner again. She met Gibbs' eyes with a pained gaze. "I told you. I am _not _lying. And I _am _sorry."

For some reason, something in Ziva's mind raised alarm at her tone and expression. Certain memories of just a few months previously shot forward in a desperate attempt at being recognized first.

Jenny… Jenny had been in a deeply depressed state. Those memories manifested themselves clearly then, for some reason. Ziva frowned. Gibbs had been worried and distracted about her, the whole team could tell. Ziva'd caught him several times staring at the director's door with an unexpressive face. Then he'd look straight at her with a raised eyebrow, and her head would snap back to her work.

The look on the director's face then was similar to the anguished glances she'd thrown them all back then. She'd mostly gaze at Gibbs with sad eyes, as if willing him to do… _what_? She could not think of a plausible explanation. But she'd given those looks at Tony, McGee and her as well.

_Memories_.

Her brain was as if mocking her. _You know why she was upset._ It taunted her amusedly. _Why do you think you're remembering this, reliving this, right now?_

"A few months ago…" Ziva said, as if in a daze. Every previously silent head in the room snapped to her, but she registered that in a very remote part of her brain. "We… We did _something_…" She struggled to get out. As if looking through someone else's eyes, her mind numbly told her that Jenny had wide, desperate, and hopeful eyes trained directly on her.

Her heartbeat was quickening, her breaths were shortening and her blood ran too hot for her to concentrate on what she was saying. It was as if her own body was fighting her as she spoke and struggled to- to- _remember_…

They'd… They'd been through all of this before… Jenny explaining, Tony mocking it, Gibbs looking ready to kill someone and the same expression of prefect calmness in Harry's eyes…

Gibbs' expression of betrayal at memory- at memory _erasing _and Jenny- a red-rimmed Jenny- a red-rimmed Jenny apologizing and- and _kissing _Gibbs to stop his protests…

And- And, _oh._

Someone's warm lips… Contentment and a frenzy of emotions… Gibbs head-slapping her and… and _who_?

A body pressed deliciously close to her… Moans and groans and her name, repeated again and again and _Tony, God!_

_Ziva, Ziva… _Her name, again and again… _Ziva… ZIVA!_

"Ziva!"


	5. Interrogations and Delayed Headaches

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"_Ziva!_" Tony was snapping his fingers right in front of her nose, eyes wide and terrified. Her eyes focused on his index finger and she fought the temptation to bite it off.

Then all thought evaporated from her mind when that piece of grey matter seemed to fall off her cranium. She suddenly ran for the nearest bathroom and emptied her stomach in the bowl. She was vaguely aware of someone holding her hair back while the acrid taste filled her mouth, and her throat silently screamed in agony.

She stayed that way, for at least ten minutes, before mustering the courage to hold her weight not on the floor and Tony – who had been the one holding her hair, and was currently supporting most of her as her arms shook, still grasping the porcelain – but on her own.

She regretted it almost instantly. She swerved dangerously close to the wall, in serious risk of smashing her head against it in the process, but Tony grabbed her again and she somehow she managed to make it to the sink unscratched.

Water, water and more water – she knew that most of it had probably gone to soak her clothing, but she just needed _more water_ – splashed across her face, her neck, her hands and arms. Probably a lot on Tony too, but from what she caught of his livid face on the mirror, he needed it as much as she did.

Mental stability returned then, fast and unexpected. She was suddenly painfully aware that Tony had his chest pressed against her back, and in a flash she'd corrected that. Her limbs were still shaking, she was still near tears and her head was now filled with the father of all migraines, but she still had enough sense to know that proximity to Tony did not end in anything good.

And, for once, he didn't even seem fazed. His hair was completely unruly, his face was pale – though not nearly as pale as hers – and he seemed on the verge of a panic breakdown. But he wouldn't be Tony if he didn't go straight to the offensive. "What. The Hell. Just. Happened?" He ground out, looking ready to start shaking as much as her.

"I-" Her voice sounded so awful, scratchy and hollow, she was tempted to shut up just to make the noise stop. "I- I do not know." Her tone shook with the weight of repressed and unbelievably impossible to retrieve memories.

She urged him to leave the bathroom, but she flushed on the way out. Stiffly, he walked out, and, immediately, they were swarmed.

She shut her eyes – suddenly she was very, very tired. So tired she pressed a hand on Tony's shoulder for support. "BACK OFF!" She heard Gibbs growl. Immediately, everyone was about three feet away from her, and she felt better. Her grip tightened on Tony's shoulder when he made to leave, so he stayed right where he was. Even though her hand dropped shortly after. "Duck?"

Ducky rushed forward, and as he asked her to keep her eyes open so that he could take a look, the action seemed to take all of her strength. Tony slipped a chair under her, and she murmured her gratefulness.

When the old M.E. pulled back, he looked utterly dumbfounded. "I- I found no traces of any medical ailment what-so-ever. She appears perfectly fine, except for the fact that she just threw up and is showing every sign of a concussion, except- well, except without the actual concussion. I do not think she hit her head at all recently, have you?" At the last bit of his sentence, Ducky turned to her, and his voice became more gentle, which didn't suit her at all.

Standing up with an enormous amount of will to keep her limbs from acting like Jell-O, she shook her head. Tony's glare was incredibly impressive and a clear indication for her to sit back down immediately. She didn't.

So Gibbs made her, and she managed to give him a glare to match- well, not to match, but just to make a point. Tantrum? "I'm _fine_." She snapped. Tony's hand landed on the shoulder not occupied by Gibbs' She turned her glare to him, which appeared to have a little more effect, judging from his wince. He knew he'd have hell to pay, but his hand stayed where it was, which, surprisingly, mollified her a little.

Jenny was the next one approaching. She kneeled in front of her. The woman was clearly trying to hide it – whether for Ziva or her own benefit she didn't know – but she could she the desperate hope she was grasping at.

Slowly, and with her voice breaking in several points during which her strength to keep it all in faltered, Jenny began speaking. "Ziva, you- you remembered _something_¸ didn't you? Something about- Something about, before your memories were erased?"

She could see McGee and Abby exchanging horrified looks behind the array of people gathered there. She wished she hadn't. Her head dropped to her knees, and everything in her recoiled at the painful moan that left her throat.

Lights bounded and buzzed in and out of her eye sockets, and she felt dizzy.

She felt the hands on her shoulders tightening, and heard Tony protesting against questions. Her heartbeat was beginning to pick up again, and she could feel her lungs urging her for more oxygen than usual already, and she couldn't have that. Mortified at the prospect of a repeat performance of what had just happened in front of everyone gathered there, she refused to search for any more lost thoughts and sensorial data from- from- January…

_No._ She tore her focus from that and instead concentrated it on the memories that had peeked through and the room around her.

It worked. The people came into focus again, the sounds began making sense, and her heart and lungs calmed. She could hear signs of arguing – Tony and Jenny. "Stop." Her protest was weak but the office fell silent. "I- I can't- It's-" Tears were, for some reason, bubbling up to the surface again. She swallowed them. Drawing calm in, she breathed, slowly, through her nose, straightening and rotating her neck, banning any thought from her brain. It was something she'd learned at Mossad to control panic attacks, and it was working.

"Jenny is right. I- I remember-" She could feel her control slipping away again, so she sharply ordered her focus to be on the director's gingerly excited expression. "I- Bits- Bits and pieces- shattered, mostly, but, yes, I remember."

Her gaze focused on Gibbs, and for some reason, she had a stray thought that told her that her eyes were probably looking deranged, not there. He frowned, and that confirmed it. "It is- It is true- Magic, and wizards and-" Her mind was slowly drifting again, and the tears finally formed a pool on the bottom of her eyes. Tony made a strangled sound, and she realized she probably looked absolutely horrid. "I can't-" Feebly, her knuckles found a hard support – the wood of the chair – to grip and turn white on top of.

"If Potter, Weasley, and Granger really are wizards," Gibbs' voice was raw and filled with absolute hatred. "they should be able to _fix _this. DiNo-" For some reason, she was sure that right then, Tony had thrown a glare at Gibbs. "McGee, go get them." And Gibbs had caved. Miracle.

Her brain stretched and contracted.

"Abby… Go get the other two… wands." Gibbs ordered, seemingly reminded of the fact that they'd probably need them. "Please."

Ziva heard the door click shut after the agent and scientist had slipped out with haste. The last thing she saw before it closed was Abby's look of pure fear, and it was directed at her.

Her mind swirled and flew.

Her gaze fixed on Tony, who was now kneeling in front of her. His eyes mixed fear with helplessness, and she didn't like that, because it was weakness, and weakness didn't fit anyone, much less her partner. His hands were twitching, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

Her thoughts jumped up and down and at her, like shrieking beasts laughing and mocking and making her head hurt. Before she realized it, her head was bobbing right and left, and a strained sound was leaving her throat.

Tony finally found a place to put his hands- on top of hers. She wished he wouldn't. They were too tight, and his knuckles were even paler than hers at the force he was making.

She couldn't see anyone else in the room, butt Tony's face was out of a sudden crystal clear. There was sweat forming a tiny, trickling bead on the side of his hair, just below the hairline above his temple. His brown eyes, usually warm, were looking almost as wild as she was sure hers were, wide and scared. She couldn't tell if he was saying something. His lips were moving-

_his lips moving with hers- his hands roaming all over her skin- a foreign piece of delighted laughter leaving her mouth- his lips on her neck- the brightest grin…_

_a movie reference- a joke at her driving's expense- the brightest grin…_

Her mind regained whatever control it still had when the door slammed shut again behind six more people.

Her head felt too heavy when she tried to look at them. She could feel it struggle not to tip over, and lose. She barely had time to see the two witches' horrified looks and hear their cries of shock as they rushed to her, Hermione grabbing her wand from the desk and ripping the plastic bag containing it open.

The brunette fell to her knees in front of her, and she recognized a soothing tone of voice as she raised the pointy piece of wood too close to her eyes. She heard cries of alarm at that, and Harry and Ron yelling over the ruckus that it was fine, explaining.

A light, surprisingly not offensive to her eyes, appeared from the tip in Hermione's wand, and her eyes hypnotically travelled to it, and stayed, unmoving.

She vaguely felt a hand gently removing Tony's fingers from her left hand, but her head didn't feel like looking to the side. Her own hand was pulled from the chair, and held in a woman's soft grip. She guessed it was Ginny, and was shocked that her mind was beginning to pull together from the fog. Ginny gently rubbed circles on her palm, and Ziva's shoulders tensed and relaxed as she tried to resist the soothing gesture.

Tony mimicked Ginny with the other hand. Her shoulders registered that Gibbs' hands were still there, the one hand he'd had free before now taking Tony's place on her partner's side. She realized that the noise was gone. Now everyone was staring intently at her, and apparently Harry and Ron's explanation had been satisfactory.

Harry's features caught her attention. It appeared as though it wasn't the first time he'd seen someone looking as bad as she did, and _that _hadn't ended well. He was pale, and, for the first time since she'd seen him, he didn't look relaxed.

_Uh… Harry tensing in the interrogation room as Gibbs told him he had no intention of handing him over to whoever came get him-_

The improvements that had been made with Hermione's work faltered, and the light from the wand became brighter to compensate.

Ziva had no idea how long it had all taken. It could have been seconds or hours – though she was more willing to bet on the former – but, finally, the light extinguished and she slumped forward, eyes closing, into Tony's arms, feeling a powerful shiver run all the way from her toes to the back of her head.

And her head all but exploded. Every single sense in her body became mute at the sudden shock. A painful, loud, and horrible throbbing stayed even after the initial pain had gone. Shaking in Tony's arms, she realized he'd changed his (and consequentially, her own) position. He was now sitting in the chair, and she was curled up against his chest, head buried in his neck, her boots lightly grazing the ground.

She had to look ridiculous, but no one was laughing. Tony had to be supremely uncomfortable, but he wasn't saying a word in complaint. She didn't dare be as stupid as to move, as she was pretty sure he'd just growl at her to get back to where she was immediately. She could feel tears soaking her partner's throat. She couldn't remember how to become embarrassed at the whole situation. Though she was sure she would soon.

And she heard the sounds of a conversation.

"I want to know what just happened to my partner." Tony's voice was commanding and it drowned out any other sound in the room.

She heard shuffling, another chair being plopped down on the floor, and someone sitting on it. It was very close to her, and from the small, erratic tugs that Ginny's hand – still attached to her own – had made, it had been the red-haired woman who had sat down.

"I think I have a rather good idea." The voice was almost as angry as Tony's, and was dripping with venom. "It's a disgustingly appalling law that was created for the repression of-"

"_Hermione._" Two voices called as one. Harry and Ron.

"The point is," Hermione's voice was more controlled now, but tight with the repression of an obvious rage. "your memories got… modified."

Ziva felt Tony's arms tighten and relax compulsively and repetitively around her waist, as if he was trying – and trying hard – to control himself. "Get to the point." Tony's voice hadn't changed, and she knew most of the people in the room had just winced.

"And then," She hurriedly continued, and she could hear the same passion as before rising in her voice again. "you went on with your daily lives, as if nothing had happened. As if you'd never met Harry or Ron, and as if you'd never been introduced to our world. And I'm sorry. I really am." Her tone held so much grief that Ziva believed her. "But it's the law." She continued sharply, and Ziva heard the darkness in her voice again. "And it was followed."

"So _what exactly _does this have to do with Ziva?" It was Gibbs who spoke that time, behind her, hands clenching on her shoulders, from where they'd never left. His voice was almost as angry as Tony's, but he didn't seem to be needing to choke out the words.

"She- She fought it." Hermione faltered as she spoke, and Ziva heard the nervousness in her voice. She felt her gaze on the back of her head, and she buried her face deeper into Tony. His hands tightened on her. He had her.

"Ziva always fights." Tony's voice was like ice cutting through something so sharply and neatly you wouldn't notice the cut until it was too late.

"I agree." Hermione said quickly, eager to alienate Tony's anger from her. "And the only reason she was able to is because her mind fought for control with such force, that eventually the cracks began appearing in the protection around her thoughts." Her voice was laced with respect, and Ziva felt something stirring. She wanted to snap out of it. She wanted to get up and act like herself again, and take part in this discussion.

But the tears were still running and her body was still completely and utterly drained, that she had no idea _what _was keeping her awake.

And Tony was so damn comfortable.

"The spell began to break. She wanted to remember so bad that she literally fought off magic with sheer force of will."

Tony's lips brushed her head, and the room was silent.

"But that kind of thing… Well- I think you all saw what happened." Hermione explained, her voice lowering. "Her energy was drained, her body functions went into overdrive and she very nearly shattered her mind." She could feel Tony's whole body tensing.

"Hermione prevented that." Harry said quietly, his voice flat, as if he desperately wanted to avoid revisiting memories. "Whoever thought to call us, it's important to realize that it saved Ziva's life." His voice hesitated, as if he wasn't sure he should say something else. When he spoke again, however, he was determined and his voice was laced with emotion, no longer blank. "I've met some people who… Their minds were gone. They are in a hospital for life, and they nearly don't recognize their own son, who happens to be a very good friend of mine." Tony's breathing pattern altered underneath her ear. He could feel the tremble in his hands as he hugged her again.

Gibbs' hands shook too, on her shoulders, and she remembered that it had been him who had thought of the wizards. She felt gratitude tug at her – her emotions and senses were returning to their more normal state.

"A little later, and we might have been too late." Ginny said quietly, speaking for the first time. "Now, a warning." She felt the muscles in Ginny's hand tense, and she knew it was that way in her whole body. "_Don't try to do what Ziva did. Ever._" For some reason, she could imagine the young woman sparing each and every… non-wizard person? in the room a personal glare. "Her mind was one of the strongest I've ever seen, and she barely made it. Don't fool yourselves into thinking you can do the same."

"What did you do, exactly?" Gibbs asked, after a moment's silence of assimilation.

Ziva only knew who he was talking to when Hermione answered. "Healing spells, and a memory blocker. I had to," From the way Hermione was rushing to speak, Ziva figured a bunch of glares were being sent her way. "or she'd be having attacks like those at anything that triggered a memory. She punctured the balloon, so to speak, and if I hadn't done anything, the memories would have rushed forward every time they were prompted." Ziva realized that Hermione was slowly slipping into lecture mode.

"The attacks would not be as bad as what just happened, of course, but it would be draining and incapacitating for a few seconds. And she is a _field _operative." She reminded them all sharply, hinting at what that could mean at a life-or-death situation.

"So take the spell off." Gibbs' voice was casual enough, but there was the underlining enraged warning that anyone that knew him could pick up on well enough.

"She can't, Jethro." Jenny intervened before Hermione had a chance to answer. "It's the _law_."

"_What _law?" He finally blew up, and his hands left Ziva's shoulders, possibly to be thrown in the air. Her shoulders felt cold without them. "Far as I'm concerned, there isn't anything in the constitution talking about magic wands or forgetting spells!" He added as much biting sarcasm as he could into his tone.

"_Our _law." Harry interjected. "Wizard's law. Nothing to do with you."

Ziva was sure Gibbs was glaring as fiercely as he could at Harry. "Until _my _memories and _my _team's memories get tampered with, _my _agent has an attack and _my _crime scene is disturbed by a bunch of wizards!" He roared, his hands almost painfully digging into her shoulders now.

Ginny's hand tightened on hers and she decided that enough was enough.

She was not expecting to have the wind knocked out of her just for trying to sit up. Her heartbeat immediately rose to one-thirty, her breaths became pairs per second and her muscles' lack of cooperation almost made her start crying again. She leant heavily on Tony again, now sitting in his lap. But the room was completely silent. Tony's hands were twitching frantically (he did not know what to do with them again) and her eyes closed as she leaned back and took a few deep breaths.

She gave Tony's hands something to do. Her fingers slid between his own. She needed strength and he was providing it. She felt horrible, and, judging by the winces throughout the occupants of the room, she looked worse. Tony swallowed dry behind her.

Her eyes opened again and she studied what she could from the expressions of the people in the room through her double vision. Abby was openly crying, make-up running down her face as she sobbed against McGee's jacket, which appeared to be the young agent's least worrisome problem.

McGee looked like someone had just told him his world wasn't real. Lost and numbly going through the normal movements of a human being, he was staring at Ziva with a look that made her want to curl up against Tony again. Jenny, whose expression had been of triumph before, now looked as if she couldn't wish for more than the memory spells back up again. Ducky had an unreadable look on his face, and he stared from Hermione to Ziva, as if he couldn't decide who to demand information from first.

And the four wizards who she had never known - well, according to her coherent memories, at least – looked sympathetic and grim at her situation. She couldn't see neither Gibbs nor Tony, given that they were both behind her.

"I am fine." She decided to assure them. Everything screamed _that _except her voice. And her face. And her body. And her hair. And her eyes. And her words.

Tony openly snorted – and not his usual amused snort. This was the kind of angry snort that showed that he was angry, in a way that no one would be able to calm him down except himself. "_You _are going to sleep. As in, right now. I'm taking you to my place."

_Tony's house… Stumbling through the door, closing it half-haphazardly behind them, more worried about each other's lips… Clothes floating behind them, the door to the bedroom closed and a thump was heard from the bed-_

Ziva opened her eyes again. It was a flash – a brief flash, no more than a second, but Tony had noticed. So had Hermione. Surprisingly, she felt – well, not fine, but like before. Tony's whole body twitched, however, and she guessed that he, on the other hand, didn't feel fine.

Hermione, however, made her way to her, eyes gentle and apprehensive. "You're still fighting it." She assumed, her hand resting on the hand being held by Ginny. "Whatever it is, we can tell you all about it, I promise. You don't need to keep pulling your own memories." She urged, worry clouding her eyes.

Ziva paused, and her eyes dropped to her lap. She could even feel a healthy blush coloring her cheeks. These… _attacks_ wouldn't hurt her, she was confident of it. "I doubt it." She answered in a murmur, looking up again. Managing a small smile, she decided to ask a question of her own. "Tell me, how do you rearrange the memories?"

Hermione looked taken aback by the question. She frowned. "Well, we adjust the happenings, modifying them to fit within a logical flow line from before the incident." Half the room stared at her as if she'd just spouted _The Lusiads _in Chinese. She rolled her eyes, and she looked like she was used to doing it. "Basically, we make sure the time during which the incident takes place is a tweaked copy of the time _before _that. We can't just leave a blank. Usually, there are no consequences from that plan. For example, if Agent DiNozzo is as protective of you every day as he is today, then that behavior would be prominent in your altered memories."

Ziva nodded slowly and thoughtfully, while feeling Tony's eyes boring into her. He was wondering where this was going and he wouldn't take long to find out. "So, if Tony spouts several movie quotes a day-"

Hermione smiled, looking happy that Ziva was feeling better. "Then he'd spout them as well during the altered memories."

"And if something big changes- If the presence of the wizards somehow makes something change-"

Hermione's smile faded slowly. "Well… It's like a rebooting. Everything goes back to before that change. And if it was the wizards' fault that thing changed, then it's likely it won't happen again."

_Like a rebooting. Everything goes back to the way things were. It's likely it won't happen again. _Ziva didn't realize when her breath hitched.

She didn't want to think about it. She _didn't_. Except Hermione said her brain was still fighting. So she did, didn't she? She did want those memories back. Oh, God.

She'd slept with Tony. And she didn't even remember it. And neither did he.

The room fell into silence as she did. Hermione, looking hesitant, however, looked like she wasn't done. "Why?" She prodded gently. "Do you remember something?"

Ziva fixed her eyes on her, expression unreadable. Hermione, realizing she wasn't going to get an answer, turned to Harry and Ron instead. But they shook their heads, clearly mystified. Good. That meant that there were only three people who knew about it, as far as she could tell. Gibbs (the head-slaps she'd remembered being on the receiving end of with Tony proved it), Tony and herself.

Since the other two didn't remember a thing, she was the only one who knew. Marvelous. Tony could always find out whenever she was hiding something, and then he could always find out what it was.

Gibbs cleared his throat and Ziva realized the room had been silent for too long. "Laws?" He prodded gruffly. It was his way of offering truce on the previous argument – and Ziva couldn't shake the feeling that that truce was because of her.

Tony was staring at her, silently telling her they could go now. She inconspicuously shook her head, resolute in staying and stiffening up. Regardless of anything else, she was still curious. Frustrated, Tony sat back and brought her with him, which made her produce a startled sound from her throat. No one had heard, as far as he'd been able to tell.

But that sound… It reminded him of _something_…

"Statue of Secrecy." Harry informed Gibbs, shrugging and breaking his train of thought, which he'd noticed was leading him toward a very nice headache. "Can't do magic in front of Muggles, can't speak of magic in front of Muggles. That's about it, isn't it?" He turned to Hermione questioningly.

She scowled. "Yes, if you decide to put it _that _way." She pronounced 'that' as a very distasteful word, as if it was a personal offence. Harry grinned.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Muggle?"

"Non-magical person, such as yourself."

"Artifact?"

"Batch of Amortentia. Very old, very concentrated, very rare, very expensive. We haven't found it yet. We'll have to go back to the house. All we know is that it's in that office."

Gibbs ignored the cloud of annoyance above his head at the comment, in favor of his curiosity. "Batch of what?"

"Amortentia. Love potion."

"Lov- Never mind. Ministry?"

"Ministry of Magic. Well, wizard business can't very well be handled by the normal government, can it? Earlier, I was talking about the British one, but there's one here too." _Magical _politics. And if Gibbs thought the normal kind was bad enough…

"Intel?"

"Given by the Ministry, it's an assignment that I decided to take because I was rather in need of something light."

"Invisibility Cloak?"

"Name's rather self-explanatory, isn't it?" Gibbs decided to close the matter.

"Voldemort?"

At that question, deathly silence descended on the four wizards and witches. Uneasily glancing at each other, they shuffled their feet and rubbed their heads. "Pass?" Harry asked hopefully. Gibbs just raised his eyebrows. Harry grumbled a few choice expletives. "How about we leave that one for later?" He asked with a forced smile. Gibbs kept his eyes on him for a few more seconds, trying to decide if he was just pushing it off so he didn't actually have to talk about it – meaning, hoping his 'friends' got there before he had the chance to do so – or if he really believed it was best to keep that for the end.

Finally, he gave a curt, slow nod. Relief showed briefly on Harry's face.

"Parents?"

Harry stiffened, looking at Gibbs in shock. "I'm starting to think you just like to ask the bad questions." He said with a pained smile, in mock-accusation. "It's sort of related to the previous question. Let's leave that whole explanation for the end, alright?" He requested, tentatively and more seriously. Tightening his lips and unimpressed, Gibbs nodded.

"Records?"

Now the young man looked confused. "Records?" He repeated, frowning. "What records?"

Keeping an eye on him, Gibbs grabbed the four files that had been dumped half-haphazardly on Jenny's desk when they'd arrived by McGee. He randomly opened Ron Weasley's.

"Ronald Weasley. Birth Certificate – issued a few years ago for what I'm sure is proof he exists, just so he can have a Marriage Certificate. And that is all. No parents listed on the Birth Certificate." He snapped the file closed, and noted the suddenly amused expressions on the four young people with a raised eyebrow. "Something funny?"

Harry cracked a smile. "Very. Ron, you're a _few years old_? How nice! But you know, you shouldn't be playing with wands so young. You might hurt yours-" Ron jammed an elbow in his stomach.

"You know, Ginny was issued hers at about the same time." Ron pointed out as Harry attempted to gasp and laugh at the same time.

"Well, yeah. But she's my _red-haired female wife_." He pointed out in return, calming down with his eyes crinkled in a grin. "Don't you reckon that's a triple alarm right there? I'm not going to mock _her_."

"Smart man." Gibbs muttered. Jenny snickered and Tony even managed a smirk.

"The _red-haired female wife_ is right here." Ginny announced to the room.

"_Exactly_." Harry emphasized. Gibbs hit the back of his head.

"_Ow!_" He cried, rubbing the tender spot. "What was that for?"

"Welcome to my world." Tony mumbled. Gibbs smacked the back of his head too, and he startled. Ziva brought up a smile, and suddenly, Tony was in perfect spirits again. Gibbs turned back to Harry as if nothing had happened.

"Learning respect. The lady looked like she wanted to kick your ass, but she's unable to do so."

"That is a _handy _trick." Ginny said, grinning. "I'm starting to like you, Agent Gibbs."

"Like the Bat-Boogey Hex wasn't enough." Ron muttered, looking from Ginny to Hermione warily. They both waved cheerily back, smirking.

The four outsiders were clearly trying their best efforts to raise everybody's spirits – both to cheer them up after what had just happened, and probably to take their minds off the bomb they'd just dropped on them. Gibbs decided to play along (and, in doing so, made the whole room decide to play along), if only for Ziva's benefit. "What's not to like about me from the beginning?" He joked.

The two male agents of his team turned to stare at him with open-mouthed expressions. "Did Gibbs-" Tony choked, temporarily forgetting the nearly passed out woman in his lap.

"Just make a joke?" McGee finished, stumbling over the words.

Abby shrugged. "Gibbs makes a lot of jokes. He just doesn't make them with you."

Ducky and Jenny smirked, and Ziva became grateful that the attention was off her, since she was lacking the strength to even look anything but seriously weak. And looking weak was inexcusable for someone like her.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs rolled his eyes to show how unimpressed he was. His eyes were focused on Ziva and he seemed to read her mind. "Get Ziva some rest."

Ziva became a lot more alert. "I want to hear the rest of this explanation." Ziva demanded at the best of her abilities in her weakened state.

"Ziva, c'mon." Tony put on his best whiny attitude – the one he could get her to do almost anything should he whine just the right amount. Too little and she'd ignore him, too much would bring him lots of pain and nastiness. Though he figured too much wasn't exactly a problem at the moment, he thought, eyeing her trembling hands when she crossed her arms. "They'll tell us all about it later. And I'll let you hit me and everything in the morning." He figured being ridiculous would help his cause. It seemed to work with her, often.

Ziva actually paused to consider that. Then she seemed to decide that she was too tired to argue. "Fine." That was easy.

He would have been more concerned if she didn't look ready to sleep for two days straight.

So instead, he stood up, and carried Ziva along princess style. Her eyes widened, her arms immediately threw themselves around his neck for balance, glaring at his smirk. But her face was entirely too close to his for Ziva to keep that up for long. His expression morphed into a smile and he walked toward the door, announcing loudly that she was in no condition to walk - to prevent comments that would make her decide to hit him sooner than the next morning.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs called. When Tony turned, Gibbs had made a coffee cup appear out of nowhere and was staring at him with a warning-filled expression. "I don't wanna see either of you for two days. God knows I need the break from the headaches anyway."

Ziva looked ready to protest, but then, Tony threw her over his shoulder and left the director's office with a nod in Gibbs' direction. If her body hadn't been ready to fall apart into pieces, he'd be on the floor with her hand on his throat, and he knew it.

Instead, she just closed her eyes and pretended she wasn't enjoying the way his arms were wrapped around her.


	6. Later Promises and Pointless Efforts

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

The moment the door closed behind them the friendliness left the room. "Is now later?"

Harry grimaced. "I had a feeling the niceness was meant for your agent." The he sighed in mock-annoyance. "No one's ever nice to me willingly."

"You're not getting out of it by joking around." Gibbs informed him mildly.

"Worth a shot."

Hermione cautiously glanced around at everyone in the room – her gaze lingering on Jenny more than strictly necessary. "You do realize that anything we tell you, you'll forget, right?"

Gibbs' eyes flared. After what'd happened to Ziva, they wanted to pull a repeat performance? Hermione caught that and hurried along again. "I told you, it's not our choice! It's the _law_, agent Gibbs, which we are just as responsible for upholding as you are!"

Gibbs stayed silent, and his mind caught up with what she said. "You're police?" He asked, not without a certain amount of disbelief.

"Well, not her." Ron spoke up.

Harry nodded next to him. "But the two of us are." He pointed at Ron and himself. "Although, in the Wizarding World, we're called Aurors."

"Auras?" McGee questioned in bewilderment.

Hermione hid a smile. "_Aurors_. A-U-R-O-R-S." She explained, when her British accent held the confused expression McGee's face.

"Then there's the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I suppose they're like your LEO's." Harry explained further.

"So… You're _elite_." Gibbs stated.

Something about his tone must have made it clear to the wizards that Gibbs was not exactly praising them. "You know, no one appreciates sarcasm." Ron scolded.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Before she could say anything, however, Gibbs interrupted. "Are you going to start talking about Vold- _whatever_, or are we going to sit here all day?"

"Voldemort." Hermione corrected, her face betraying how unhappy she was with this particular subject.

Jenny frowned in confusion. "_Vol de mort? _As in, 'flight from death'?" She questioned.

"Something you don't know, Jen?" Gibbs asked mildly, looking overly pleased with that fact.

She shot him an irritated glare before turning her expectant gaze to Hermione again, whose lips were twitching at the exchange.

She sobered quickly enough, however, giving Harry, whose expression was impassive, an uneasy look. And, from that, Gibbs knew that she was taking over the answer to the question to save the man a lot of unneeded grief. "Well, to answer your question, Director Shepard, yes, as a matter of fact, Voldermort's name does mean that. But it is a single word." She hesitated, eyes darkening as if she were being brought back to memories she'd rather leave behind. "He was..." As she struggled for a word, Gibbs got the feeling that the young woman couldn't really come up with an appropriate one no matter how hard she tried. "arrogant. And self-centric. He thought he could evade death... Forever."

The looks on her and her friends' faces told him she wasn't just using a figure of speech. She literally meant _forever._ As in living permanently. The room was suddenly dead silent.

"And he very nearly succeeded, too. He..." Her voice faltered. "He did things..." She shook her head, and Gibbs' eyes fluttered to where Harry was now scratching what he realized was a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. He wondered how he'd gotten _that_. "Horrible, disgusting things, that allowed him to become immortal. I suppose you could compare him to Achilles. He was strong and powerful; but he had a weak spot so liable that it was of vital importance to protect it with an equally powerful force."

Hermione was a compelling story-teller - he could give her that. The whole room was silent - no one would interrupt, and Gibbs felt himself drawn to it, felt the importance of finding that spot, and to destroy it. Even though he'd never met this 'Flight from death' guy, or heard what he'd done.

"Unfortunately, there aren't many of those around - so his weak spot was unguarded enough for someone to destroy it."

Gibbs eyes flew from Hermione, to Ginny, to Ron, and to Harry. They wore unperturbed masks, even the two Weasleys, who he'd found to be very fiery and explosive. He didn't like that - he'd been a Marine, and he knew very well that the grimness in their expressions didn't belong in the minds of twenty-year-old kids.

"So you found it and did what had to be done." It wasn't a question, and it was directed at Harry.

He straightened at being addressed, but he didn't look defensive. So it seemed that whatever he'd done, it'd been more legal than letting him and his team keep their memories. Lucky him - apparently the big guys upstairs didn't prevent justice, where he came from. He guessed magical politics were better, after all, than regular ones.

"I didn't 'do what had to be done'." He answered, shrugging and looking a lot more tired than he should have. "I helped his death along, but, at the end of the day, he killed himself."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. He didn't know whether to be amused at the way they were trying to delay actually saying something that mattered, or annoyed that they were taking so long to explain things thoroughly without prodding. Though maybe he was just used to his team's lack of need of any prompt that went further than their own names. "You shed the light on things and he came to his senses, was it?" He asked dryly, leaving no shadow of doubt that he wanted them to get on with it.

Harry scowled - gone was the relaxed, amused, easy-going guy that'd been hanging around since he'd displayed his annoyance toward his partner's noise. This one was just really pissed off. But that wasn't really a first for Gibbs, so he wasn't fazed. He did see, however, how Harry could be a formidable enemy.

"Do _not _joke about things like that. Voldemort was dangerous, and before we managed - with serious effort, I might add; and I can attest to that, since I was passed out for two whole days afterwards - in your terrifically phrased words, to _bring him to his senses_, a lot of people went down. Good people, with parents, siblings, children who waited for them to come back home. Who are still waiting, because they haven't returned yet." His eyes recoiled at something in his mind - Gibbs didn't have to go very far to wonder what. Ginny was rubbing her belly softly, and her eyes were red - _pregnancy hormones_, he guessed she'd say.

Ron and Hermione had their teeth clenched and were standing a lot closer to Harry than they'd been before. He'd take a wild guess and say they'd been the ones standing by his side throughout all the things he was describing.

"My own Godson- he lost both his parents the night he went down." Harry continued, and his voice was growing softer, lower, as if the mere mention of this subject was draining him. "He lives with his grandmother, who lost her husband in that war," It was the first time he'd used that word, and it startled Gibbs, who was liking this less by the minute. Harry was starting to speak as if in a trance, like he'd bottle up this for a long time, and it was all rushing out, all at once, and all of a sudden. "and, like I said, her daughter and son-in-law. Who also lost all his best friends during the course of Voldemort's rotten life. Among them, my Godfather - who lost his brother too - my parents - who were forced to go into hiding for at least a year before dying - and another man who was lost to the other side. I lost someone who would have been my brother-in-law. And make no mistake - just because they died, does not, under any circumstances, mean they were anywhere close to an age where it was even slightly acceptable to consider, by any code anywhere, for them to die."

Ron and Hermione's eyes were beginning to look like Ginny's, but Harry only had steel in his voice and face, arms crossed in a common self-protective position. "And many, many more people - too many for me to mention right now. Friends, family of friends - a five-year-old boy was bitten to death by a werewolf working for him." If the mood hadn't been so serious and depressing, Abby, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there - which was something rare for her - would have said something about the werewolves. "So, no. Voldemort had plenty of chances to see the light - _I _gave him plenty of chances to see the light, including just before it was all over - and he refused them all. So, we ended it. And it was one of the best days of my life." His voice was raw and defiant, as if he'd been speaking for years instead of a few minutes.

Gibbs really doubted the young man had meant to say all that, but he looked better now that he had. His eyes were conflicted, as if he couldn't quite decide what to do after that explosion, now that the instinct-driven rant was over. Gibbs believed him - that was his only comment to the speech, and one he wasn't about to repeat aloud.

The room was nearly completely silent. Gibbs could only hear Abby sniffling - the girl was far too emotional and happy for a Goth, and he wished she hadn't heard all that. McGee, livid enough as he was, looked unsure what to do with her crying figure, standing next to him.

"Well," Ron began feebly, but still determined to break the dramatic mood that was clearly doing no good to anyone. "He's been practicing that speech in the mirror, so he appreciates all your appropriate reactions." Abby's sniffles were his answer. She hadn't spoken much since they'd entered the office, and Gibbs needed to remember to speak to her about how she was taking all of this in. God knew McGee wouldn't.

And he needed to avoid thinking about a war having gone unnoticed by him in the lifetime of the four people in front of him - and also much younger than him. _Go with the current_.

"How old were you?" His unexpected question broke the silence that had settled and which didn't seem anywhere near going away.

Four startled looks were his answer. "What?"

"The four of you." He pointed at them. "How old were you, when this whole business happened?"

Now they understood, and they didn't like the question. They shared an unsettled look, and Harry forced a smile. "Which part of the _business_?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes - this smelled like a trick question. They didn't want to answer, and _that_ didn't sound good to him. "When this guy, _Voldemort_ - I really don't like French names, or guys who use them - fell, how old were you?"

The relieved flash of emotion that ran through Harry's face told him he'd asked the right question - for him, at least. Somehow, Gibbs knew he had fallen into the 'trick question'.

"A legal adult." He replied smartly. "Already for a while."

"Funny." Gibbs growled. He got the feeling that Harry knew the grey-haired man found it anything but 'funny', but Gibbs had no clue what could possibly have alerted him to that. "But that's not what I asked."

Harry offered him a disgruntled glance in response. "I know. But I also don't want to answer that question."

"I know. But I also want to receive an answer to that question."

Harry's face twitched - it could have been the possibility of a smile, or the young man preventing himself from sticking out his tongue at him. Then he shrugged and Gibbs knew he'd won. "Seventeen." He replied flippantly as if being that age and doing what he'd described was as normal as being a war veteran and doing what he'd described - which wasn't normal at all to begin with. Even Abby stopped crying to stare at him in shock.

Gibbs could have said a lot of things - really, _a lot_ of things - to that statement, but he stuck with the easiest. "I thought you said legal adult."

"He did." Jenny spoke up. Though he didn't show it, Gibbs was startled. She'd been silent for so long, and the conversation had become so involving, that he'd nearly forgotten she was there. Which wasn't like him at all - he was usually pointedly aware of her presence, if she was near him. She was staring at him from behind her desk; expression unreadable and hands out of sight, but surely fiddling. "In the Wizarding World" Her gaze travelled to the four people he could count as directly involved with what she was saying in acknowledgement. "people reach majority at seventeen."

Gibbs raised his eyebrow at the kid. "Legal, eighteen-year-old kids are rash enough at that age - which is why the booze and the car only become legal at twenty-one, which doesn't happen in England - and you reduced that time even more?" Harry shrugged.

"We're just _cool _that way." Ron was still working to warm the mood.

Hermione began speaking before they could do too much damage. "At any rate, we don't usually use cars and we have sobriety potions that're quick and easy to both make and take." She said casually.

"I'm sure Tony'll be asking you for that one." McGee muttered. The wizards looked more cheerful to see that someone was pulling out of the nasty tales enough to joke.

If only, you know, McGee were joking.

"Right, seventeen." Gibbs interrupted, pulling their minds back to the subject at hand. "And that was at the _end_ of it all."

That had seemingly not occurred to McGee. The urge to bash Tony behind his back appeared to suddenly vanish from the junior agent's mind.

Gibbs thought that Harry might actually want to strangle him, from the looks he was receiving. Frustrated, the wizard looked at him resentfully. "Can't you just let it _go_?"

Gibbs ignored him - it was something he was good at. "How old were you when this war began?"

He could almost see him change tactics - his expression turned blank and he used the same tone he'd used when telling him he was a legal adult to deflect his question. "Not even born. We are from the last generation of wizards to fight him."

Gibbs was beyond irritated by now. "How old were you when you started fighting?"

Harry scrunched up his nose in a way that made it almost unbelievable that he'd given such a heart-breaking speech a few minutes previous. "I'm not going to lie." He began, crossing his arms. "And I can tell you won't give up. But I'm also not simply going to start spouting my life. I've already told you more than what I was keen on before. I'll answer your questions directly, but that's it." His voice was serious. Gibbs' 'interrogation' was bothering him, and the older man was actually pleased by that. Ever since the overly calm display a few hours earlier, he'd been dying to get under Harry's skin. "And if you're asking when the war started - which, whether the _responsible adults_ believe in it or not - I was fighting in from the start, I was fourteen."

"I thought you said the war had started before you were born." Gibbs commented, falsely calm.

"Is that a question?" The kid was enthusiastically committed in pissing Gibbs off as much as he could.

Gibbs glared at him until his resolve crumbled and he gave up, rolling his eyes. "The war took a... _hiatus_, of sorts, for thirteen years, when Voldemort was heavily set back. Before that, the First War, as it's called, lasted eleven years. After that, the Second War lasted three. And was twice as bloody, I should add."

Gibbs stared at Harry for a moment, trying to decipher from either his words, or his expression, or both. But he was too impassive, and his sentences too vague, so he reluctantly gave up. He took the bait. "Who set him back?"

"My mother." Was his prompt answer.

"Lilly Evans." Gibbs said, both as a reminder to himself and a prodding for him to continue.

Harry tilted his head, stuffing his confusion away from his face. "Potter, actually. She married my father and took his name."

Gibbs regarded him - well, he seemed convinced enough of that. "Who isn't on your birth certificate."

Understanding flared in his eyes. He nodded, as if something had just made sense. "He wouldn't be. He was born and raised in the magical world. Unless someone had introduced him to the Muggle one, like Ron and Ginny," He pointed at the two red-hairs. "he wouldn't be in your records, and my mother couldn't have claimed to have married a non-existing guy. So he didn't show up in my birth certificate, and my mother kept her maiden name."

And Gibbs suddenly understood the strange records. He guessed the Weasleys, like Harry's dad, must have been completely covered by the magical community - no reason to become involved in the Muggle one. Possibly, when married to two people who _did_ have ties to the non-magical world, they might have wanted to be more _in _it, so to speak, and hence the certificates. The other two had gaps - possibly when they went into the Wizarding World. Harry had been born there already as well, however - which explained why he'd only shown up when he was one, and his parents had died, leaving him to his Muggle relatives.

"The academic-year gap in your records - several years, too." Gibbs said suddenly, making the connection. "School?"

Harry smiled, looking impressed. "Very good - and yes." He didn't say anything else.

Gibbs kept his eyes on him - he knew that there was a lot that the guy hadn't told him, but he also knew that he wasn't going to sit and wait until he was done telling him his life story. Surprisingly, he had better things to do.

He also realized that he was adopting a colder, patronizing attitude Gibbs hadn't known in him beforehand. He was pulling back, becoming more defensive and cautious, and Gibbs could understand why, from the bed-time story he'd just depicted.

Jenny caught onto his thoughts quickly enough. "It's rather late." She announced, checking her wrist watch - if only for the others' benefit. "I don't think Agent Gibbs has any further intentions of keeping you here." The glare she gave him was uncalled for - despite his expression, he had no intention of contradicting her. "So I think you can go."

Hermione glanced at Harry, then at Jenny and finally at Gibbs. With a frown, she seemed edgy, and looked eager to avoid any gaze in the room. "Agent Gibbs, I-" She faltered, and, though addressing him, she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Usually, Obliviators - the wizards and witches responsible for dealing with the... memory issues brought up by your interaction with us - would have appeared and done their jobs already." She was briskly rushing through that sentence, leaving no room for them to process it quickly. "But, the Ministry was left vulnerable, and I assume they have deemed that task a secondary one - although why, I have no idea, since if it is not dealt with immediately, the information could spread like a viral video - so we're still here right now and you're memories are still untouched."

Gibbs' impatience must've started to show on his face a little too clearly, because Hermione winced and hastened to keep going. "My point is: they will eventually come, whether you send us home or not." Now she did meet his eyes, and Gibbs noted that they held a true apology. "I'm sorry. I wasn't even supposed to allow your agents to go home - that'll give even more trouble for them, since they'll have to check everyone who came in contact with them." She didn't look very sorry about that.

"You tell them to check the nearest take-out, fast-food restaurant." He said with a frosty smile that made her flinch.

He had no intention what-so-ever to let anyone touch his memories. Or Tony's, or Ziva's, or McGee's, or Ducky's, and certainly not Abby's. And he usually made sure that statements like that came to fruition - if he wanted something, his best efforts were fairly enough to get it. His only problem was, however, that he knew himself very well, and he also knew that he would have had no intention of letting anyone touch his team's memories when it'd (apparently) happened either.

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly, and Harry and Ron crossed their arms, undoubtedly trying not to do the same.

"We'll leave." Ron shrugged, losing the joking facade he'd been trying to keep up. "But Hermione's right."

And they made good on his words. With awkward goodbyes, they hurried out of the room, and someone made sure they were escorted out. They looked happy to be gone - that much he could tell - as if they couldn't wait to forget the MCRT as literately as the MCRT would forget them.

And the room fell into silence.


	7. Irritated Coworkers and Protected Rests

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

Gibbs' attention digressed now that it wasn't focused on his interrogation - and he noticed that, somehow, during the whole talk, anyone with NCIS on their job resumee had somehow been pushed around the room, close to the walls, like casual observers in an interesting event. Jenny was sitting at her desk, but other than that, it was as if Gibbs and the newcomers had been providing the entertainment in the middle of the room. His hands were still poised on the chair DiNozzo had been sat on, and there was an empty one next to him where Ginny had been. He straightened, and his back protested because of the end of the continuing, uncomfortable position.

Now that the four self-proclaimed wizards had left, no one was sure what to say. The room had been dipped into silence and no one seemed about to end it.

Finally, McGee reached the conclusion that there would be nothing to do left. He took the lead, opening the door and slipping out with Abby on his heels. Everyone else followed without hesitation, but Gibbs stayed behind. Jenny looked anything but surprised by that.

One look and they'd reached the decision not to address their elephant in the room. Instead, she decided to discuss someone else's undealt with problem.

"Do you think sending her home with DiNozzo in her emotional state was the best idea, Gibbs?" He'd be idiotic to ask who she was refering to.

He went for the diplomatic answer. "Ziva won't do anything she doesn't want to."

"Exactly."

Gibbs' lips twitched. "They're responsible adults. I'm done playing babysitter."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "I thought you had a rule against that. Number twelve, I believe?" Jenny's voice was too casual for her not to have put a lot more thought into that particular thought than she was letting on.

Gibbs glanced at her briefly, suddenly not keen on keeping his eyes on his director for longer than strictly necessary.

"Like I said – I'm done playing babysitter. It's becoming too much of a thankless task to try to keep them separate."

Jenny was amused. "It's been a task, has it?" She asked, eyes shining.

He shrugged. "It didn't use to take much – a comment here and there, and they'd come up with a bunch of excuses to keep five feet between them. Lately it's been a lot harder. I'm pretty sure they've been making excuses for the opposite."

Jenny laughed – she couldn't help it. Gibbs' tone was one of a parent talking fondly about his children. Even if he didn't realize it – and even if it was only with her that he allowed his expression and voice to show any kind of honest emotion. "Well, I'm sure they're just at that age." She grinned, unable to resist the comment and leaning back in her chair. She relaxed to a more informal position now that it was only Gibbs in the room.

He rolled his eyes, pulling a chair and sitting down on it backwards. "DiNozzo is at a slightly different _age_ than David, Jen. They can't be both at 'that age'." He humored her, playing along with her joke for the time being.

"_We _were at a slightly different age from each other, Jethro." And suddenly the mood was serious again, the silence oppressive. Memories – thankfully, not the erased kind ones – flooded both their minds, until the feelings they triggered were impossible to handle.

"Still are." He said lightly, redirecting their thoughts toward safer waters.

It was a subtle warning that she chose to ignore. "Never stopped anyone."

Her lips twitched, correctly interpreting his answering silence.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "It's also not the only thing that can stop people."

Jenny shrugged, giving up with a nostalgic smile. "No it isn't." She agreed.

And Gibbs had so hopefully thought they'd successfully and safely avoided this conversation topic in favor of Tony and Ziva's issues.

Meanwhile, a distraught Ducky was relaying everything he'd heard in the director's office back to a dumbfounded Jimmy, who was feeling even more lost than usual, as he drank every word the older man said. "Goodness forbid they even ask permission, no – _they_ decide what's best for you." His angry, mocking tone became worried at the next sentence. "And Ziva – I wish I had taken another, proper, look at her. I don't know what that young, unexperienced girl could have possibly done. She looked terrible, the poor dear!" He fussed, angrily remembering the immensely dark bags underneath Ziva's red eyes.

Palmer, leaning over an autopsy table, had been listening intently and watching as his mentor, distressed, paced around the room for fifteen minutes now. It was late, and the young intern had very much wanted the doctor to hurry with his visit upstairs so that he could leave. But that feeling had faded as soon as the unusually venting figure of Ducky had entered Autopsy again.

Now he eagerly wanted to hear what the older man had to say, but all he'd been able to gather was that someone had, somehow, tampered with all of their memories and that Ziva had been hurt, which had completely stumped him. The doctor, who was speaking non-stop and inconsistently, was not providing any explanation that might ease his confusion. "Even Abby couldn't find anything to say to the director's speech!" He continued, eyes flashing with an anger Palmer had hardly ever seen Ducky express.

That comment, Jimmy could understand. He smiled at the irony, but before he could open his mouth to make an inappropriate comment on how Ducky had taken over Abby's ranting abilities, he'd started again. "Honestly, Jenny _knew _what had happened, and she neither said nor did anything-" He stopped in his tracks, as if something had suddenly come to his mind. "Well, now that I think about it, she was rather depressed-looking a few months ago…" Ducky frowned, pausing in the center of the room thoughtfully. Then he shook his head. "Regardless!" He exclaimed. "We _are _her friends, aren't we? She should have explained what'd happened!" And he was off again.

"But- Doctor-" Jimmy attempted to interrupt, so that he could get some semblance of an explanation, but Ducky just waved him off.

"No, Mr. Palmer, I can assure you she did not say a thing." He told him in earnest conviction. Jimmy closed his mouth again in defeat. "Yes, she kept a very large secret very well." And then his whole demeanor changed, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "But I suppose I can't really blame her – I'm just trying to find someone to be angry with. For instance, that Weasley young woman, trying to pass for a physicist," He scowled, eyes flaring up again. "I didn't even get a chance to examine Ziva before she left with Anthony – and she showed every sign of a concussion! But by the time they took off I was too stunned to do a thing."

Eventually, Jimmy managed to understand – partially – what had gone down. And, though he couldn't say that he particularly happy that he had missed a part of his life – far from it – his eyes gained a permanent glazed over aspect, his mind whirling with the possibility of the existence of magic. He kept making clumsy comments, but Ducky was so distracted that he didn't seem to notice.

Right when Ducky had begun to direct his anger to the 'black-haired, overly calm young lad', Abby stormed into Autopsy. McGee followed, looking harassed, as if he'd been trying to contain the forensic scientist and had had no particular luck with it. "No, Tim!" She instructed, and McGee grimaced at her tone. "It will _not _be fine."

She glared at Ducky and Palmer, as if daring them to contradict her. Ducky had even stopped talking at her imposing stance. "Abby-" McGee tried – his tone indicated that this was not the first time he'd tried to interrupt her, and that he didn't expect it to be the last.

"No!" She demanded. "Do not try to explain, defend, or protect the Director. It is not fine. It is not okay, or alright. She lied, Timmy!" She said – her voice was hurt and there were unshed tears in her eyes. "I want my memories back, and it is not okay that someone took them away from me, and that Director Shepard didn't say a thing."

McGee winced, as if physically hurt by her tone. "Abby, I'm not saying that it's okay, I'm saying that-" He never got to finish that sentence as Abby slammed to fists into his chest and his breath left him in a huff. Then she opened her arms with her eyes even more teary than before, and McGee obliged by dutifully pulling her against him with an embarrassed grimace to the other two men in the room.

"Abigail," Ducky began softly with an understanding tone, his own anger at Jenny vanishing the minute Abby was in need of reassurance. "I'm sure that the Director wanted nothing more than to tell us – but you did hear Mr. Potter, didn't you?" Abby sniffed in response, pulling out of McGee to turn to the older man. "Apparently," Ducky kept his voice carefully neutral and controlled, not wanting to upset Abby even worse. "it is against the law for them to tell us. If she had, Jenny might as well been betraying national, high-clearance secrets to any passerby, and I don't think that would have been taken very lightly."

She threw her arms in the air, anger replacing the tears in her eyes for a moment. The metal in her boots slammed into the ground with a loud noise as she punished the floor for her helplessness. "But we're not any passerby, Ducky!" Abby cried in frustration. "We're _family_. And keeping secrets from each other has never ended well in the past!"

"That's true." Jimmy acknowledged. For once, no one glared at his comment.

"See? Even Jimmy agrees!" She snarled. Ah, there were the glares – he guessed they just needed a scape goat, and Abby didn't provide a very good one. "I don't care how many laws she would break, she had no right!" Her eyes were wide and irrational – she was finally cracking under the weight of Ziva's break-down, her missing memories and a magical world she had apparently never heard about even though it'd always been right under her nose. "Ziva was _hurt_! And Hermione" Trust Abby to address someone she'd never met on first name terms. "said that it'd happen again. She said our memories would be modified again." She crossed her tensed arms, looking ready to burst into tears again at any moment. "I won't let that happen." Her eyes hardened and her tone became defiant. "I made a video, talking all about this, and I hid it _really _well in my computer. No one but me will be able to find it, but I'll come across it first thing in the morning."

McGee hesitated, obviously struggling to say something. "Abby- I'm not sure- I'm not sure it's that easy." He took her hand for support when she turned to him with helpless eyes. "If people could just secretly make a video before her memories were erased, this would be public knowledge already, don't you think? And besides," He hated the desperate look he was putting on her face, but he was on a roll now, and he didn't want her to have false hopes about her plan. "I'm pretty sure you would have had that idea the first time this happened."

"What if I didn't have time? They said that the time they stayed here was an exception, that under normal circumstances they would have been gone hours ago." She was grasping at straws, and even she knew it. She broke into sobs and fell onto McGee's chest again when he gave her a melancholic silence as an answer.

On his end, McGee's own anger was flaring rapidly, even if he was better at hiding and controlling it than Abby was. She was seriously hurt by Director Shepard's behavior – and that didn't sit well with him. He'd guess that the moment Gibbs saw her, any truce he had with Jenny would have to be renewed from scratch, and that tempted him to go pay him a visit, Abby in tow.

But he didn't really hate Jenny that much, and Abby was a little irrational from seeing Ziva literally almost lose her mind.

Instead, he rubbed comforting circles on her back and attempted to focus on her breathing instead of his thoughts. He glanced down at her black hair, and suddenly understood why Gibbs kept giving her friendly kisses. If he took the 'friendly' out of the equation, he had the same urge. He tightened his arms as she shuddered. Abby was in no shape to speak for a while, he knew, and she'd only be irritated to be moved, so he began a conversation with Ducky to keep his mind on less dangerous sails.

"Do you know if Gibbs left the Director's office already?" He asked the older man, who was frowning in concern at Abby. Ducky shook his head.

"I came straight down here after that rather… stimulating" McGee had a feeling that wasn't the word he wanted to use. "conversation, and it seemed to me as though Jethro stayed behind."

"Yeah, me too. That's why I was asking. I wanted to take Abby home." He glanced down briefly to gauge her reaction, but if she had one, it was hidden by his shirt. "I don't think she's in a very good shape right now, and I want her to get some sleep." This time she showed her displeasure by stepping on his foot with her heavy boot. He winced, but didn't back down. "It's true, Abs." She muttered something unintelligible in response.

Ducky sighed. "Yes, I suppose we'd all better get some sleep." Then he scowled again as he made for his coat. Jimmy hastened to mimic him, reaching for his jacket himself. "I do think, however, I will keep my weapon out for any friendly fellows wanting to play with my recollections." And he stormed out of the room, three people hurrying behind as he closed the lights and activated the usual security procedures.

They rode the elevator to the bullpen's floor, and Abby, despite having brought her overcoat with her from the lab, was still shivering against his side. Ducky and Jimmy bid their goodbyes as they made for the exit, and McGee hovered uncertainly next to the bullpen. His eyes hesitated on the Director's door, and Abby wasn't helping him making any decisions, huddled in silence next to him.

"Go home, McGee." Gibbs' head suddenly outside Jenny's office might have been his imagination, since it was gone the same second it had appeared.

Well, hallucination or not, he now had a direct order, and he was only too happy to follow it. Urging Abby toward the elevator again, he led her to his car, figuring he'd pick her up in the morning. She didn't offer any resistance as she sat down on the passenger seat and strapped in her seatbelt. With a sigh against her silence, he made his way to the other side of the car.

The ride was short – Abby didn't live very far from the Navy Yard, and it was so late he didn't even want to look at the clock. She stared out the window the whole time, an unblinking stare on her face. She could have been analyzing the stars or staring at the inside of her skull, since her eyes were completely blank and devoid of emotion. He didn't like that – the Abby he knew was expressive and overbearing at times. She'd really been terrified by what had happened that day.

He stole glances occasionally, but mostly his eyes were on the road. He'd killed the radio the moment they'd entered the car, since neither of them had been in the mood for any music of any sort. There were hardly any cars on the road, so, besides the silence, all they heard were the tires sliding through the asphalt. McGee liked driving at night; he didn't know why, but he found the empty roads and the free reign soothing him along with the quiet. He appreciated it best when he wasn't driving and was allowed to let his mind wander more, though the hands on the wheel had become second nature - he was carelessly lazy, and not necessarily focused.

He parked in an empty spot right in front of her building's front door, and then turned the engine off. Before he had a chance to leave, however, she stirred. She'd been motionlessly leaning against the mirror, her head on her arm. "Timmy?" She mumbled, shivering for good measure. "Will you stay at my place tonight?"

His first instinct was to say no – spending a night at Abby's, no matter what angle he analyzed it from, sounded _bad_. And then she looked at him. And his answer changed so fast and so much he was confused for a second. "Of course." He stammered, shaking his head to get rid of the fogginess. "C'mon." He prodded, getting out of the car and pulling her along when she did as well. He locked the doors.

"McGee?" Abby murmured once they reached her door. She was wiggling with the hem of her jacket, her teeth sinking on her teeth. "Why do you think Gibbs sent us all home instead of keeping us in the office? I mean," She hastened to continue, trying to convey her confusion in the best way possible. "wouldn't we be _safer _there? I'd think Gibbs would want to keep us all under his watch, and I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have been too hard to find somewhere Ziva could rest comfortably." She glanced at him for reassurance that the detail her mind was stuck in didn't make her crazy.

He paused, holding the door open for her to enter as he considered that. "I guess…" He mumbled. The scent of her perfume reached him through the rush of air she picked up as she passed him. He cleared his throat in concentration, closing the door behind him as he followed her. "I suppose Gibbs is either giving them a sense of normalcy, or- or, you know, he's thinking that it's probably pointless to resist." He refrained from commenting that normalcy didn't usually involve Gibbs' team going home in pairs.

"So… It's Gibbs' way of giving up?"

McGee sharply turned his head to her in alarm. He didn't have an answer to that.

Gibbs was annoyed. Somehow, in the middle of their innocent conversation, besides being the last ones at HQ at an ungodly hour of the morning, they'd gone from reading between each other's lines to arguing about how just it was that Jenny had kept things from them all.

He hadn't moved much, except to make sure that Abby didn't spend the night alone. He was still sitting in the same chair, and Jenny was still glaring at him from the other side of the desk. He wasn't really sure why he was still there – maybe it was the same reason that had made him switch the subject from their not-so-subtle hints to the first argument that had come to mind.

"I'm starting to think you have some kind of hearing condition. Did you not listen to them say '_it's against the law_'?" Jenny snapped. Her defiance, though, however big, still wasn't enough to make her look up at the grey-haired man. Instead she observed her hands – which she had come to know very well over the course of the time Gibbs had been in her office.

"I _did_, actually, Jen. I also heard them talking about how you know all about it." Gibbs retorted, raising that point for about the hundredth time.

"Yes, Jethro, I do." She replied with a pinched expression, tight with suppressed exasperation. "And, _again_, I've told you – I'm the Director of a federal agency – I am read in on a number of matters which you are _not_." She repeated – she was rather sure that Gibbs was only pounding on the same button over and over again so that they stayed in her office, possibly for the rest of the night. And while the lack of sleep didn't really bother her, she knew that he was doing that so that he felt that she was 'protected', which _did _bother her. She could take care of herself and he knew it.

Honestly, the man didn't really have to do much for her to spend the night with him, and, of all the ways he could do that, he chose to argue?

Maybe she ought to leave that train of thought in the far back of her mind.

"You still should have told us." He commented, easily switching from annoyed to provocative. He could do things like that, and it pissed her off to no end. And he knew it too. "'Course, since you knew our memories were gonna be erased, maybe you did things you might not want us to remember."

For a second, her heartbeat faltered and the color drained from her face. Had he remembered? Or maybe Ziva had and told him without her noticing? To entertain herself while having these thoughts, a sheet of paper lost its life by being shredded in her hands. She desperately tried to keep a composed expression.

And then it hit her how ridiculous she was being. Both Ziva and Gibbs had been in her sight the whole time since she'd remembered, and neither possibility was reasonable.

Unless… Unless Gibbs had remembered before and told no one. As soon as the though occurred, she dismissed it. No, he'd been sufficiently shocked at her revelations. That wasn't possible either. And the smirk on his face reassured her that he was bluffing. He didn't know a thing.

She should have been relieved. Him remembering what she'd done to shock him into staying still for the Obliviators to do their jobs would be bad, confusing and awkward for the both of them. Though, honestly, it wasn't as if she'd committed a capital crime. She'd just pecked him on the lips for him to shut up and stop reaching for his gun.

It'd all been in the name of the Wizarding Law. No personal interests involved.

She wasn't feeling anything anywhere near relief, and denial wasn't just a river in Egypt. At least she could acknowledge _that_.

"To your surprise, Jethro," She began, her throat dry, though her voice miraculously not breaking. "not everyone keeps secrets."

That would have been a great answer. He would have bought it too. The only problem was that she was silent one second too long before giving it.

His eyebrows slowly rose into his hairline. "Something you're refraining from telling me, Director?" Deliberately formal.

She gave him a brief glare that probably only confirmed his suspicions. "No, Gibbs." Deliberately informal. She sunk into the chair like a child with a tantrum.

Thankfully, he seemed to realize he wasn't getting a word from her, and he dropped it.

Before he could get another word in, however, she cut him off. "What are you still doing here, Jethro? I get that you run on coffee, but you need at least a couple of hours of sleep a day to be able to survive, don't you?" She asked, half actually curious, half wondering if he'd admit that he was there just so that she wouldn't be alone at home.

"Well," He started again. She couldn't contain the groan as she recognized the tone of voice. "I was just wondering why you spent months without telling us about this magic and our erased memories."

She made the chair fall back like a bed, and stared at the ceiling with pleading eyes, suddenly feeling as though sleep wouldn't be bothersome at all. She wasn't very sure who she was pleading to.


	8. Improper Attires and Optional Flashbacks

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

Ziva opened her eyes very slowly. Awake for at least half an hour already, for once the Israeli hadn't been able to force herself out of bed with the same kind of energy she always did.

The smell of bacon was what had forced her conscious mind to the surface. The sizzling sound of the meat frying brought water to her mouth. She sat up, and immediately fell back on the bed, her head spinning and her entire body swaying.

She remembered now why she'd avoided thinking. The massive headache – her brain seemed to be literally throbbing as the blood rushed to it – had made sure her thoughts stayed to the bare minimum common to when she was asleep.

She gritted her teeth again and managed to stand up properly. Her head felt ready to explode. Was she hang-over?

Then she realized that her surroundings were unfamiliar and that she was dressed in an equally unfamiliar jersey – and nothing else. Correction – was she so hangover that she didn't remember picking up a guy at- wherever it had been that she'd made sure she'd be hangover this morning?

Whoa – smaller sentences or her brain would burst.

Then, very slowly and while she stood there – blinking in a daze – her memories returned – thankfully without the same scene of yesterday.

Her first thought once that was over and done with was: _please, do not let it have been Tony to have undressed me._

Her second thought was how loud her stomach was when she was starved.

She prevented herself from stumbling instead of walking with a good amount of concentration. The shirt was big enough that it fit her like a dress, so she wasn't very worried about Tony seeing her like that.

She'd been in his apartment before, though never in his room-

Well, awkward. That wasn't exactly true, was it? Red spots warmed her cheeks, and she pushed the thought away.

She followed, down the hallway, the sounds of the TV, toward the kitchen where she came upon a rather surprising view. Tony was in an apron, absent-mindedly turning the bacon on the fryer while staring at a television screen, perched on a tall table on the other end of the kitchen. The sunlight coming from the window was hitting him directly in the face, and it seemed to be annoying as he couldn't watch whatever program he was watching properly – which she couldn't see at all.

She couldn't seem to bring herself to mind it as much as him.

Her 'ninja assassin' skills meant he hadn't heard her come in, so she entertained herself for a couple of more minutes, just staring at his homely behavior.

Definitely not the first time she'd been in either his apartment or his bedroom.

She cleared her throat quickly after that thought ran through her head. He jumped, swirling around with the kitchen tongues held in front of him very threateningly.

He was all set to deep-fry an assailant.

"Would you like me to refrain from mentioning… _that_" She gestured to the offending weapon, covered in grease. "to Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo?" She questioned innocently, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and very_ inadvertedly _raising the jersey a few inches higher than appropriated behavior for a lady.

He rolled his eyes – but then he couldn't contain a grin at her attire, and, she deduced, at the fact that she was feeling better. He looked her up and down very unabashedly, and she swiftly reminded him of her comment in the car the previous day by twitching her left arm. Even if she had deliberately provoked him into verifying her out.

"No, that's really okay." He grinned again, and turned back to his cooking so it didn't burn, though he kept talking to her. "Have a nice nap, sleepy head?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Very." But then her curiosity won out her need to give a sarcastic retort back. "I did not know you cooked."

He threw her a smile – like the one he'd given her in the car the previous morning. "I'm a man of many talents." But she caught him making a face before turning back to the bacon again. "Nah, I know basics. I mostly rely on the capable grease of take-out."

That road of conversation had gone stale, so she asked a different question, leaning against the door frame and fighting the shakiness in her legs that told her to sit down. She'd shown enough weakness for a lifetime the previous day. "I am surprised that you woke up before I did."

He shrugged. "I didn't almost lose my mind yesterday." He reminded her over his shoulder. She could hear, more than see, the smile siding off his face. "Guess it's tiring, though I haven't had the experience myself." She grimaced, and the queasiness in her limbs and stomach prominently sharpened.

Desperate to change the topic, she balled her trembling hands into fists, schooling her expression into a serene mask when he threw her a worried look at her sudden silence. "So, what have you been doing then, while I was asleep?"

Maybe he was as eager to quit that train of thought as her, because he jumped at the opportunity. "Not much – mostly just eating, watching movies and having my wicked way with you in your unconscious state. Kidding!" He backpedaled at her murderous look. Then he grinned in typical DiNozzo fashion. "I only had my wicked way with you when you sleep-walked. Ow!" She was suddenly right behind him and there was a new, throbbing pain in his side.

"You did say I could hit you in the morning." She shrugged in a model innocent school girl act. "And I do not sleep-walk." She added with a glare.

"Actually, it's the evening, so that punch was completely unjustified." He answered in his whinny, reasonable voice. "And yes you do."

"I do not!"

"Do too!"

"I do n-" She scowled at the amusement shinning as brightly as the sun in his face. "I am _not _getting into this with you." She announced, interrupting herself.

"Are to- _Ow!_"

She ignored him, instead frowning at his handiwork. "Why are you cooking bacon at-" She glanced at the wall clock behind them. "six in the evening?"

He turned back to the stove, reminded of his task. "Okay, first of all: bacon is great at any hour of the day-"

"- to increase cholesterol suicide numbers, maybe-" Her voice was sing-song.

"- and second of all, you need something light after not eating for so long." She could almost imagine him showing her his tongue.

She paused. She'd give him that. She didn't feel like she could handle dinner, but she was definitely nauseous with hunger. But she needed to do something first. "Toothbrush?"

"Unused ones under the counter on the bathroom in the hall." Was his immediate answer.

She was halfway out of the kitchen when she properly processed what he'd said. She stopped in her tracks with a horrified look crossing her face. She turned so quickly that her lulled headache sharply reminded her that it was still there, and the world rotated eerily around her for a moment.

Regaining control over herself, she hurriedly began speaking before Tony realized something had happened. "Uh-" She couldn't contain the slight groan. "Evening?" She asked, keeping her voice surprisingly normal.

She'd apparently not been convincing enough, because he glanced at her with a frown. She stood perfectly still with a blank expression, giving absolutely no clue that she'd just felt dangerously dizzy. Releasing a sigh, he appeared to reach the conclusion that he wouldn't get a word from her, so he offered her an answer instead. "Yep." He was amused again, grinning in delight at her. "Slept through the whole day."

She groaned and left the kitchen.

When she returned, teeth freshly brushed and a brand new personal toothbrush stationed in Tony's place, he was turning off the stove and placing a plate of just-made bacon on the table. Her stomach churned painfully at the heat coming off in condensation from the meat. Tony chuckled. "By all means, dig in." He mock-presented with a flourished wave.

She rolled her eyes again – it was becoming a bad habit. "Do you have anything to drink?" She suddenly realized she was really thirsty too – probably from the toothpaste – and glanced behind him, as if a clue to that question would appear on the counter suddenly.

He turned to the fridge, opening the door and analyzing the contents. She sat down on the small table. "Hah!" He exclaimed happily, pulling out a bottle. "I knew I had something healthy in here." It was orange juice, she absent-mindedly noticed.

Ziva had her brows furrowed, playing with the hem of the table cloth as Tony reached for two glasses. She was so deep in thought about something that even Tony seemingly decided to wait until she decided to tell him instead of asking.

Since she had time on her arms, she was gingerly running through the memories her brain had decided to pull into safety in a not-so-safe method. She was careful not to try to go further than them – she had a feeling that she would never think about her recollections the same way again.

Most of them had her swallowing drily and flush with glances at Tony, and those she quickly urged to the side of her mind. Some were things Harry had gone over anyway.

Others, however, left her burning with curiosity. She chose to ask Tony the one that was the clearer and most complete. Her eyes were on the table still, her eyebrows furrowed as she considered it. "Do you think…" She hesitated, wondering whether she was being indiscrete. Then she remembered how Jenny had known all about their first meeting with the wizards and the guilt mostly faded. "That something is going on between Gibbs and Director Shepard?" She finally looked up, watching as he poured the liquid.

"Jenny and the Boss?" Tony frowned, plopping down on the other side of the table and handing her a glass. "Why?"

She grabbed the glass, drowning it in one gulp. His eyebrows were raised in a smirk when she put it down again. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue the same way he had refrained, instead making a face at him. "I am thirsty! I have not drunk anything in a day!" She defended herself, already filling her cup to the brim again. She took it in two gulps this time.

He grinned, taking a sip from his own glass. "But why?" He prompted, resuming their conversation.

She hesitated again, fingering the edge of the cup, already filled for the third time. "Because…" She drummed her fingers, drinking the orange liquid again. "I remembered something…" Her voice trailed off, eyes unfocusing. Her fingers stopped.

_Ziva was clenching and unclenching her fists, wanting nothing more than wring the neck of the disgusting, little man who'd bound her, leisurely and arrogantly standing right in front of her._

_At least, she mentally clenched and unclenched her fists. Physically, she was as capable of moving as the pot plant by the window in Jenny's office. She'd been told that it was a full Body-Bind curse – well, if they hadn't played dirty, the ones petrified would have been them. Perhaps for life, if she was filled with enough rage._

"_Gibbs!" Ziva had hardly ever heard the Director using that desperate tone, or Gibbs' last name. She reckoned it was necessary, though – even though she fully backed Gibbs on this one. "Don't be difficult!"_

"Difficult_, Director?" His voice was so cold, Ziva almost flinched – if she'd been able to. "I'm being _difficult_ to you, am I?" His voice was mocking._

_He was angry – very, very angry. Rage poured off every pore in him. He was the only one not down yet. And that was only because he'd always managed to find a physical body to absorb the beams of light thrown at him. He had the Director's desk between them and the attacker, and every time he threw a curse at him, he'd move and find another shield. So they were at an impasse. Her boss was _good_, and Ziva was fiercely proud of the man right then. She hoped he kicked them to the curb, and _accidently _killed them._

_If Ziva could have flinched, that was nothing compared to Jenny's reaction at Gibbs' voice. She took a step back, her whole body twitching in a mixture of a wince and a cringe. She was behind the attacking man, observing the scene with a pale, horrified expression._

_Ziva blamed her – with furious passion – for all of this. She'd called them – all of them, including their forensic scientist and M.E. – and they'd been _ambushed_. Ziva had no pity for the woman under Gibbs' furious and betrayed glare._

_All their weapons – which they only had because they'd been immediately told to come to the office as soon as they'd arrived from a crime scene - were strewn on the floor. And the worst part was that they had been the ones putting them there. You could not fight _magic _with bullets._

_As soon as they had entered the office on Jenny's command, lights had flown directly at them. Gibbs had been quick on his feet – apparently he hadn't liked the summons for all of them, and had been on edge already before entering. Ziva, like him, had spotted the men coming inside that office earlier, but she, unlike him, had forgotten all about it._

_She dearly mourned that mistake._

_So Gibbs, the only one with half a mind, had thrown himself on the floor and the rest were knocked to the floor. Palmer was the first to go with a nasty crack as his head hit the wall._

_That, however, had not held the three special agents long. They had been quick to stand back up – unlike Abby and Ducky – which had distracted the three wizards in there long enough for them to draw their weapons and open fire._

_It had been completely pointless. They had flicked their wrists, holding wooden sticks – wands – and the bullets bounced off, harmless, from the see-through shields. The knives they'd thrown had suffered the same fate. They tried again and again, and it seemed to bore the men enough that they started on the offensive once more._

_Abby was the first to fall. Well, figuratively speaking. She had already been, dazed, on the floor. The disgusting pigs had thrown a jet of light at her and suddenly, she was completely rigid, terrified and newly alert eyes bolting around the room._

_Gibbs had been so furious, he'd bodily thrown himself, sidearm flying uselessly through the air, at the goon that had dared to harm his surrogate daughter. They'd been so shocked that he'd tried to do something so stupid, that the man their boss had thrown himself at fell to the ground, producing a cry as his head hit the floor and he passed out._

_And Ziva, quick learner, realized that, though they would fend off their attacks with guns easily, they were completely unprepared in a physical fight – so she mimicked Gibbs in throwing her gun to the side and rushing another wizard. And it had almost worked._

_After a second of shock, Tony and McGee took the hint. The four of them would have been enough to overpower the two bastards left, but they had not counted an unfair advantage to the bad guy's side: while the NCIS agents' weapons were useless, theirs were _not_._

_Jenny wasn't helping – she stood, trembling with the most awful expression, away from the fight, next to the door. Ziva had not been able to help but to notice that. And, apparently, neither had Tony, McGee and Gibbs. And the seconds of precious disbelief and distraction had been enough that they hadn't been able to knock the wands_ _off the wizards' hands fast enough. Another jet of light meant for Gibbs, who'd ducked at the last second, hit Ducky in the chest. The old man, who had been trying to help Abby, gave a cry as he fell to the ground, not stiffening like Abby, but instead crumpling as if passed out – or worse. Ziva had been horrified at the prospect. Jenny had covered her eyes at the sound he'd produced._

_The third blast of light had incapacitated McGee, who was thrown across the room to hit the wall, falling down and moving no more. It had spurred them into action, snapping them out of the shock that they were taking them out so easily._

_Ziva had punched the man responsible for the junior agent's attack before he had been able to react, and he'd scowled through a bloody nose, attempting to hit her with another spell. But she'd been too quick for his disoriented mind, and the light had hit a pot in the corner of the room, which had blasted and given Gibbs the idea of the shields. Ziva had kicked the wand out of his hand, probably breaking his wrist. A round-a-house kick to his chest and he'd joined his buddy in the sweet-dreams land, head hitting the corner of Jenny's desk._

_She'd looked around, and her eyes fell on Tony on the wrong moment. The last man standing had hit him with the same curse as Abby, and he'd fallen back with the power of the hit. Like a board, he'd hit the ground with a huff, too tired of ducking and running and trying to hit the man to avoid it._

_He'd turned desperate eyes to her, wildly looking around the room in panic, and Ziva's breathing had become shallower as she took him in in mute terror._

_The guy must have realized he'd made a grave mistake. Maybe Ziva just looked like his girlfriend, and maybe Gibbs just looked like his dad, because when the combined, feral glowering of the two remaining members of team Gibbs concentrated on him, he took a step back, nearly stumbling to the floor._

_They'd charged at the same second from opposite directions, and he, with only a second to pick a target, had attacked Ziva. His clumsiness had saved him. In the fight, the office had become a mess, and he tripped on a broken frame, landing two feet behind. The spell he'd aimed at her, instead of hitting the chest like the others, hit her foot instead, and she became the only standing statue in the room. Gibbs missed, but instead of stopping and making an easy target of himself, he'd taken advantage of his momentum and jumped over the desk that was in his way, taking refuge behind it while aiming a vicious glare, filled with venom, at both Jenny and the wizard._

_And the fight had fallen into a stiff, quiet and still hiatus. Ziva had been surprised that no one had come inside to check what was going on – the office was wrecked. The desk had been knocked down, there was a single vase still intact, and every cabinet was on the ground, which was littered with books, broken shards of a bit of everything, and the MCRT still bodies. Plus Abby, Jimmy and Ducky, who were the ones she was more worried about._

"_Agent Gibbs-" The man tried in a would-be reasonable voice –Ziva, however, correctly identified the exasperation and boredom in his tone. Now that he wasn't on the wrong end of an ex-Mossad assassin and an ex-Marine sniper, he didn't look as scared crap-less. The fact that his companions had been hurt didn't seem to bother him at all._

_She wished she had a paperclip right then, and full usage of just her right arm. That was _all _she needed, and the guy would be on the floor in less than a second. Dead or permanently injured would be a question of whether her hand slipped – and it was _so _easy for her hand to slip._

_She began seeing red with the effort she was making to move. It was hopeless. She could feel the sting of her eyes – the only part of her body she still had control over – as helplessness brought on the tears. She was reduced to watching a confrontation that everyone knew Gibbs could not win._

"_Jethro," Jenny tried again. Her voice was shaking horribly, and she was repeating every syllable. "please, please¸ don't do this. Don't fight him – he'll hurt you." Ziva had a sudden urge to pick up a wand and curse her into oblivion. She was angry, and her mind was not thinking straight, but still, the urge seemed pretty authentic._

"_Listen to her, Agent Gibbs." The man said, in the same monochordic tone._

_Gibbs replied with an insult so colorful that even Ziva had to avert her eyes, her cheeks reddening. The guy scowled, hand twitching. But he knew he'd never be able to hit Gibbs. The Boss was a lot better at ducking than the man was at aiming his wand._

_Jenny took a step forward. The guy cleared his throat as a warning, and the filthy look she gave him spoke the lady appropriate version of what Gibbs had said. The man clicked his tongue impatiently, and Ziva swore she could see him stagger with the intensity of the torrent of imaginative tortures she was sending him mentally._

_Slowly, their Director walked around the desk, stopping a foot from Gibbs. Ziva saw the tears running all the way to her chin, and her anger faltered as Gibbs' face softened slightly._

"_Gibbs…" More tears fell free from her eyes. "Please – I can't see him hurting you." Jenny covered her face with her hands, and when she looked up again, a flare of warning arose so great in Ziva's chest that she wanted to yell so desperately, she felt her lips twitch. "I'm sorry." She sobbed, and she pulled him flush against her, gluing her lips to his._

_The warning in her chest was dimmed by shock. Ziva instinctively searched Tony's eyes to find them already looking in her direction. She could imagine his jaw dropping in surprise. It would have been comical if his lips weren't hard as rock against each other._

_But as soon as she looked back to the two, she realized the plan. Jenny took a large step back, and the strangled sound from her throat was so painful that Ziva felt her belly tug for her even as it chilled._

_The air went as chilly as a refrigerating camera, and all she could see was Gibbs' shocked features, completely concentrated on Jenny – he was not paying attention at anything else. Ziva counted two seconds of stillness that seemed to drag for two hours – the attacker was a moron. One more second – just _one _more second – and Gibbs would have come to his senses._

_But he wasn't completely stupid, apparently._

_And the curse hit their boss, the light illuminating Jenny's cheeks like fireworks because of the water pools. Ziva tried to scream as he fell to the ground, and from the corner of her eyes she saw Abby's streaming tears and Tony, jumping eyes silently cursing the three men with every Italian awful name he knew._

_And then the wand was trained right between her eyes and Tony's green eyes were the last thing she saw._

Ziva heard crying. Sobbed screams. Her head was buried in her hands, and there were two warm objects shaking her shoulders.

She grasped them suddenly, gritting her teeth as her self-protection mechanisms kicked up. She realized she'd grabbed wrists, so she let her hands slid quickly to the middle of the attacker's forearms before she stood up from her chair. Ziva twisted the arms around so that she was behind him, pulling his arms to opposite directions behind his back.

Her foot was in the middle of placing a well-aimed kick to the middle of his column when he produced a strangled cry, and Ziva's eyes widened when she recognized the voice as Tony's. Her hands dropped and her knees buckled.

The crying started again. And she realized that she was the one making the sounds.

Tony dropped to his knees in front of her and she saw the eyes again, even if through blurry tears.

"_Ziva_!" His voice was as wild and terrified as his eyes had been at the last moment before her memories had been modified.

"Here." She gave him a muffled response as if in a classroom, hands covering her eyes again. And she was being crushed against his chest with an impossible amount of force. He was shaking.

He swatted the back of her head and she muttered a half-hearted protest. "Don't do that _ever again_!" He reprimanded in a more controlled voice.

"If you do not mind me asking…" Ziva mumbled, feeling her tears finally dry. "What exactly did I do?"

He head-slapped her again. She became mildly annoyed. She hoped he realized he was putting himself in assassination's way. "You suddenly froze, and then you burst into tears." She figured he was so freaked out because he'd lost count of the time he'd seen her cry – and because the very first time had been the previous day. "Then I grabbed your shoulders and you nearly broke my arms and dislocated all my junctions!"

_And almost paralyzed you with a good blow to your back. _She thought, guilt eating at her like the plague. She pushed him off her, needing space to breathe all of a sudden, and stood up. This time she didn't fall down again. She was getting good at this.

As soon as she lost contact with him, she felt the urge to cry again. What was _wrong _with her?

So she sent the self-defense packing and pulled him against her again, pushing her face into his shoulder as the tears threatened her again. His hands immediately began rubbing her back vigorously and she calmed down after a while.

Taking a last, shuddering breath of his scent, she pulled back and accessed the kitchen. Both their glasses were in pieces on the floor, the juice having already spread to cover a quarter of the kitchen. The bottle – closed – was on the floor too, the outside cardboard encasement soaking up the spilled liquid. She guessed he'd knocked the contents of the table (only the bacon had been spared) to the floor getting to her. She scrunched up her nose and looked away, not needing anything else to feel guilty about.

He pulled her toward the living room – he was good at reading her thoughts like that – and they fell to the couch. "Well," He began, voice emotionless. "you're obviously not better."

She rubbed her eyes, cleaning the last remnants of the tears. "No, I- I am." She ran her hands through her face. "It- it was my fault."

She felt his incredulity as he bristled rather than saw it. "I mean that." She hastened to say, regretting it when her voice cracked. He found her hand and gave it a squeeze. "It is true. I- I thought too much about something and then- And then-" She began to feel a constriction in her chest as the oxygen became too little for her.

Tony grabbed her other hand, and his grip tightened on both of them, his face a mask of flickering emotions. She felt herself relax. "I think- I think I understand how it works now." She breathed as long as she could as if it could cleanse her from the one memory she was better off not having. She wanted to keep her stance and her voice steady when she spoke. "Every time I get a - prompt, shall we say, I have a choice not to see where it - _leads _me. If a few words, or an image, triggers a memory, I can choose _not _to remember that memory. If I want to remember, it is a flash, except it is as if I am really _there_, and I feel everything as if it's happening _then_, and it can be overwhelming. Yesterday there were only fuzzy… _flickers_, and today it was full-blown flashback." She shook, not able to control herself. She struggled to find the right words, but she thought she was able to convey what she wanted to very well.

Tony was frowning, obviously trying to sort through that, while rubbing soothingly and mind-absently the back of her hand. Then, his face cleared as if he'd made a step-by-step plan to seek all the answers he wanted. "What did you see, in the kitchen?" His vice was soft and hesitating, like he was unsure whether he was asking too much. "I mean, I don't want you to-" He started to backpedal, but she shook her head to stop him.

"It is fine." She told him sharply, pleased when her voice didn't sound like a croak. "You do not have to _baby _me. I _can _take care of myself."

"And _that _is how I know you're back to yourself."

Now _she_ hit the back of _his _head.

"It was-" She hesitated, and he fell into an expectant silence, knowing that the jokes were over and she was going to start explaining what had happened. "It was when our memories were erased." Tony clenched his teeth and his hands, which hadn't left hers, tightened involuntarily. "Tony…" She could feel the tears brimming by the edges of her eyes again. "They _destroyed_ the Director's office to get us."

He swallowed, pulling on his dry lips to wet them. She found herself staring slightly at the motion, distracted for a moment. Another memory pulled at her mind, and, terrified, she immediately swatted it away.

She shrugged it off and straightened, feeling stronger now that her own thoughts weren't knocking her to the ground all by themselves.

"Well," Tony said. "I would guess there would nearly be an apocalypse, since I really doubt Gibbs would have gone down without a fight." Ziva remembered the way their boss was winded by a kiss and she wasn't so sure.

"You are underestimating the meaning of a _fight_." She said darkly. "We did not even stand a chance, and there were three of them, and seven of us."

Tony blinked, frowning as he did a head count. "Eight, don't you mean?"

She shook her head, slowly. "No. Jenny… Jenny helped them." She hesitated in saying. He opened and closed his mouth several times, like she imagined he'd do in the flashback.

But she was instantly regretful of her words. The anger she'd felt had been temporarily blinding – but since no one was there to do it for her, she felt the need to defend the Director. "It was the law, Tony. I do not think she had a choice." His mouth closed for the final time and his teeth clenched, and she wondered with curses were running through his head. "She did not do much, I can assure you. She only made sure they did not have to hurt Gibbs."

He furrowed his brow, rubbing his neck. "How'd she do that?"

Her lips suddenly twitched. She couldn't help it – it wasn't funny, but she was amused at what she was about to say. "She kissed him."

Tony's hand dropped with a start, and he looked at her like she was crazy. "The guy going to hurt Gibbs?" He asked in bewilderment.

She shook her head, feeling lightly light-headed at the quick movement. Forcefully clearing her head, she answered him. "No. She kissed Gibbs."

His jaw dropped again. "Close your mouth, DiNozzo, or you will trap a fly." She smiled a small grin.

"Catch – She _kissed _him? Seriously?" He sputtered in awe. "Wayto _go_, _Boss_!" He beamed, before freezing. "He's behind me, isn't he?" He asked in a whisper anyone in the room would have heard.

Ziva laughed. "Not unless he found a way to turn invisible."

Tony was exhaling through his nose in relief when he stopped abruptly. "Didn't Potter mention something about an _Invisibility Cloak_?" He was becoming paranoid.

Ziva sighed, running a hand through her hair and deciding she needed to wash and brush it. "I do not think Gibbs is behind you under an Invisibility Cloak." She scoffed at the idea, standing up, and feeling her legs weak. "I will take a bath, now, yes?" She asked permission.

He nodded, rolling his eyes and standing up himself. "You didn't need to ask permission. _Mi casa es su casa_, yes?" He asked, in a terrible imitation of her accent. She smacked the back of his head.

"I do think, DiNozzo, you will be very sorry for head-slapping me earlier." She informed him, and he cringed. She yawned. "But right now, I need a bath. And food. And then, I will go to sleep again."


	9. Suspicions and Unwelcome Confrontations

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"Anybody's memories get high-jacked, then?" Was the first thing Tony heard upon his entrance to the bullpen.

His boss hadn't looked up; still working on a report of some kind, he'd kept his focus on the paper. Tony dropped his bag on his desk, watching Ziva do the same.

Her eyes were wide and trained on her partner, and he imagined her heartbeat racing – even five feet away, he knew that the memories that had upset her yesterday were still haunting her, and Gibbs' question probably didn't raise pleasant thoughts.

The prolonged silence made Gibbs look up with a frown, wondering if the question had a bad answer. Tony's attention snapped to the surface again, and he tore his gaze from Ziva to see his boss' raised eyebrows.

He shook his head, noticing as Ziva unsteadily sat down in his peripheral vision. "Pretty sure I remember my last couple of days." He stated mock-cheerfully, dropping his weight on his chair and restoring normalcy. "Love potions, flying sticks and mental breakdowns?" Ziva threw him a glare and Gibbs stood up, taking off his glasses, just to smack the back of his head. "Yeah, I had a feeling it was _that _bad."

Ziva rolled her eyes – but the way she quirked her lips told him she appreciated his way of distracting her. But Jenny appeared at the bullpen unexpectedly, hesitating at the entrance, and making all his efforts go to waste when Ziva immediately stiffened. Gibbs deliberately turned his back to her, making his way to his desk, and the mood was immediately frosty cold.

He almost felt sorry for her, except that the drive to the Navy Yard had been filled with his partner's detailed description of the nightmarish scene of last January.

"Apparently, everyone's memories are intact, Jen." He commented, placing his glasses back on his nose.

The elevator dinged and Tony glanced at it to find McGee stepping out. Tony glanced at the junior agent's desk – his gear was all there, so he must have been arriving from Abby's lab. He beckoned McGee closer as Jenny and Gibbs began a staring contest.

"What's going on?" He asked in a whisper once McGee was within hearing distance. Ziva approached the two of them, perching herself on the corner of Tony's desk and a little too invading of his personal space. McGee shrugged, eyes trained on the red-hair and oblivious to his colleagues' behavior.

"I dunno, actually." He answered truthfully, leaning against the table and using his hand for support on it. "They've been like this since yesterday morning."

"Well, if Gibbs is pissed at her enough to show it in front of us, then it's bad."

McGee made a noise of agreement, tilting his head while observing the interaction. "They spent the night here the day before last-" He started, casually enough, but Tony made an undignified sound deep in his throat, effectively shutting him up.

"They did _what_?" He asked, a little louder than he wanted to. He glanced from his boss to his other boss, suddenly not so quick to dismiss Ziva's words that morning. McGee gave him a raised-eyebrow, questioning glance.

"_Why _are you so _nosy_?" Ziva asked, exasperated. "It is like you will _die _if you are not into all the gossip!" Said the girl who'd been the one to start the discussion on whether there was something going on between Gibbs and Jenny.

"_In on _all the gossip, Zee-vah-" He corrected absent-mindedly, observing the scene with a lot more attention than before. "And how do you know they spent the night, McSource?"

McGee rolled his eyes, but then grinned, unable to pretend he wasn't as amused as Tony was by this. "Had the same clothes when I came in in the morning. I saw them leaving the Director's office together." Tony snickered and Tim couldn't contain the smirk.

Without so much as a flicker of a glance in their direction, Gibbs had hit both their heads with two crumpled balls of paper, and then it was Ziva's turn to chuckle.

Jenny glanced behind her, however, and she sobered quickly.

"Guess your friends aren't coming, Jen." Gibbs continued, as if there hadn't been a lull of several minutes after his first sentence.

"Well, maybe it is for the best." Ziva spoke up unexpectedly, loud enough for everyone. Tony glanced from her ice-cold look to the Director's wide-eyed expression, drumming his fingers nervously on the desktop. "It was quite a mess when they came last time."

Gibbs and McGee were switching their attention between Jenny and Ziva, their narrowed eyes wondering. The Boss had leaned back during the provoked silence, and though his face was carefully blank, Ziva could feel the frustrated anger resulted from her refusal to provide any further explanation. "You wanna share, David?" He finally asked in a casual order, clearly unable to keep quiet anymore.

Jenny's eyes flashed and her whole body became as rigid as Ziva's had been when the spell had hit her. The Director crossed her arms protectively and something in her face reminded the ex-Mossad of the crying woman trying to save Gibbs some unneeded pain.

Ziva took pity on her. She half-understood her position – even though she hadn't been hit with a petrifying curse, she must have felt helpless, bound by the law to stand and watch as her friends were attacked. She shook her head in Gibbs' direction. Relief flooded the Director's features before her face was a perfectly schooled mask of blankness again.

Gibbs wasn't so eager to finish the discussion. "Really? Not really what it seems."

"It is nothing." Ziva told him, repeating in words what she'd said in gestures.

"Ziva." Jenny called suddenly, her voice hardening. "A word in my office, please?"

Ziva visibly hesitated – her eyes flickered to Tony, and in a fraction of a second, he could see the masked fear in them. His legs were intent on straightening, but then Ziva turned back to Jenny and her face was expressionless again. "Of course." And they left, Jenny looking hurt by the obvious lack of trust and Ziva looking stiff by the same thing.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Gibbs started firing questions and McGee listened in silence. "What can you tell me, DiNozzo?" Tony knew better than to put his trust on the forced calm in their boss' voice.

"Ziva believes she is in full control of her flashbacks." He replied, almost automatically. "She doesn't think they're a liability."

Gibbs was as fooled by Tony's tone as Tony was by Gibbs'. "And what do you believe in?"

Tony hesitated, wincing at what he was about to say. "That, for a few days, she should avoid the field." She'd murder him in cold-blood if she heard him say that.

Gibbs nodded, satisfied with that answer. "What about the scene that just took place here?" He continued, taking off his glasses again. He raised his eyebrows when he was met with silence. Then he sighed, showing an uncharacteristic flicker of emotion with a grimace. "Told you not to tell?"

Tony pulled an apologetic face for an answer, and Gibbs didn't need anything else.

"I take it you remembered what happened here?"

Ziva stared around. The office was pristine – there wasn't a spot of dust anywhere, much less any sign of how trashed the place had been just a few months previously. _Magic_. Ziva crossed her arms, feeling like she needed some sort of defense against the word. She was very sure that several vases and picture frames that had been smashed on the floor were perfect and whole again, in their designated places.

"Very… vividly." Trying to speak through rock-tight lips was not very easy. Jenny was suddenly in need to avoid her eyes.

Jenny's shoulders slumped when she realized she'd have to speak. "Look, Ziva," She began – the silence wasn't leaving her comfortable, and neither was the guilt it brought. "I'm- I'm not sure _how much _you remember." She hesitated – if Ziva didn't know everything, she really didn't want to remind her of the rest.

"Do not worry." She told her coolly, uncrossing her arms and leaning on the wall McGee had been slammed against. "I remember everything, from the moment we walked through the door to the moment a wand was pushed in my face."

Jenny searched her face for any signs of bluffing. When she found none, she let herself fall onto the desk chair, her whole body slumping. Hesitating, she propped her elbows on the top, wiggling her hands as she entwined her fingers. "I-" Jenny paused, pressing her lips together. "I imagine you have questions?"

Ziva didn't really want to start on a bad note. She had deep respect for the woman in front of her, and, to a certain extent, she understood what she had had to do. While she had no intention of not getting the answers she wanted, she began with the easiest and most light-hearted one.

Her lips twitched, and Jenny frowned, not seeing how this could provide amusement. "Well, actually," She gave her a half-smile. "I did wonder why you decided to present a-" She frowned, struggling for the words. "public display of affection, with Gibbs in front of several witnesses. Witch included DiNozzo." Now who was nosy, again?

She was trying for a tentative bond, one that, hopefully, could withstand the beating it would undertake in moments.

Jenny's entire demeanor changed and her face became red with embarrassment. Her hunched shoulders straightened, her hands stilled and she overall tried to produce a more formal stance. Ziva's grin could not help but to broaden.

"I used my abilities to their full extent to avoid Gibbs getting harmed." She answered quietly. The flush faded from her face while the smile left Ziva's.

Her eyes steeled as the room tensed again. "They still hurt him." The harshness was back on her features and tone.

"No, they didn't." Her face could go from red to white very fast, but she firmly believed in what she was saying. "They only made him lose his senses."

Her fists, lacking anything to grip to death, curled around themselves. "And you trust their word on that?"

"I realize that, under the circumstances, you don't-" Jenny tried, leaning urgently over her desk as she attempted to explain, but Ziva interrupted.

"Like them? Trust them? No, that is not true. I usually go out with them for drinks every night, but they make be forget about it."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Ziva." Jenny told her sharply, clenching her teeth to remain still.

"I think it suits me just fine." The room fell into silence – Jenny tried to find a good way to phrase what she needed to and Ziva waited for her to speak.

"Ziva…" She hesitated – again. "I would- I'd be thankful if you refrained from mentioning this to everyone."

Ziva was torn between anger at the request and a little guilt that she'd already broken it. She decided to compromise. "Tony already knows." She bit out with the most furious tone she could muster. Jenny cringed at the voice.

"I was… afraid of that." She managed.

Before she could say anything else, Ziva glared at her with such viciousness that her mouth was clamped shut. "Why? Are you going to have his memory modified?"

Ziva could tell that Jenny expected the mistrust. Probably thought she deserved it, too.

It was only that that stopped her and reawakened Ziva's brain from the anger. "I will not discuss it with anyone else, Director." She made sure her voice was cold and flat, and that her expression announced she'd been trained by the Israeli intelligence agency.

Whatever would be said next was lost when there was a knock on the door and DiNozzo's head peeked through. He glanced uneasily between their expectant faces before remembering what he was there to do. "Uh, right – we got a case. Need to go, Ziva."

She'd almost forgotten she was there to do her job.

Ziva could feel Jenny's eyes on her as she left the office after Tony, and she imagined she was biting her lip now that there was no one watching.

Good.

"This is way too close to our last case."

Tony frowned behind him, where she knew he could barely glimpse the monumental house they'd visited the two days before. He was taller than her, so she couldn't see it like he could.

It was true. They couldn't be farther than three blocks from the castle-like dwelling, and she liked it as much as he did. This time, however, they were aiming at an apartment. She observed her surroundings, passing the main door.

Children played unperturbed and non-worried, and the cars passing through were scarce, since they were in a fairly suburban area. The building was painted white and pretty much a twin to the others around it. It was a comfortable premise in a good neighborhood – not usually were there would be a murder. Then again, so was the last case's house.

"Well, thank you for the reminder of what a joy _that _was." She commented, entering the elevator after him.

"Ziva Dah-_veed_, are you using _sarcasm_?" Tony grinned, pushing the button for the seventh floor once McGee had made sure the two of them didn't have alone time in the three-by-three feet box.

"I can use sarcasm!" She protested, ticked off that it was the second time that day that she'd been accused of it.

"Yeah, Tony, she does it all the time." McGee said, not understanding where he was coming from.

The senior agent spared him a mildly annoyed glance. "I'm _trying _to make conversation, McAnnoying."

"By implying that Ziva doesn't use sarcasm?" McGee wondered, feeling his eyebrows approaching his hairline.

Tony gave him the evil eye. "Careful there, Timmy. You don't want me to start asking questions as to why you've apparently been lacking some serious sleep, do you?"

McGee scowled, his neck heating up slightly. "I haven't been lacking sleep-"

"Say, Ziva!" Tony called loudly, stepping out of the elevator as it dinged and its door opened. "Why do you think Naval Criminal Investigative Service Field Junior Special Agent Timothy McSnoring here was taking a nap the day before last, on the back of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service Major Case Response Team truck?"

"That- was a lot of names."

McGee rolled his eyes, though looking secretly glad that they were back to their usual banter.

Ziva followed down the hallway, entering the last door of the corridor after Tony. The apartment was neat – except for the bodies, eagle-spread on the middle of the floor. Ducky hadn't arrived yet.

There were two, a man and a woman, showing no visible wounds. Their faces were morphed into horrified expressions, eyes wide in fear. They'd apparently developed rigor mortis quickly – that'd probably help Ducky with the poison, which seemed like the only possibility – because their arms were stretched in from of them defensively.

They, especially the guy, looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't pin-point why or from where. They were well-dressed, and the furniture confirmed that they weren't financially challenged. There were no signs of a struggle, or of a robbery, and there was hardly anything else out of the ordinary besides the corpses.

The man was closer to the door, so they started there. From the dog tags, he was the Marine. McGee crouched down after Tony had taken the picture of the male body, pulling his prints to ID him.

"This is kinda weird." McGee commented, waiting for the prints to run. "What would they be trying to protect themselves from if there are no wounds apparent at all?"

Ziva shrugged, as mystified as he was. "I do not know. Tony?" She asked for his opinion, realizing he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for too long.

Once she caught the horrified expression he was staring at the woman with, she knew there was trouble.

She approached the other side of the room, crouching down over the other body and seeing nothing that could cause the way Tony was shakily running a hand through his hair.

"Tony?" She repeated with a frown. "Is everything alright?"

Just then, she heard the sound that told her the fingerprints had been matched. McGee, who'd been distracted by the two of them, scrambled to read the information aloud. "Uh… Corporate Aden Lauren, on leave to recover from an injury sustained overseas for two months, an eight-year-old daughter, married to-"

"Marguerite Lauren." Tony spoke up, finally. Ziva threw him a surprised look and glanced down at the woman. The name 'Lauren' sounded familiar from somewhere... "The eight-year-old girl's name is Marian Lauren." Tony's face was pale and blank when he turned to look at them. "These are Mary's parents."

"How were they found?" Tony repeated, startling the LEO with the urgency in his voice. He'd all but jumped the man, the first thing he'd said to him being 'How were the bodies found?' The guy had, in her partner's opinion, taken too long to realize that the NCIS agent behind him was talking to him, so Tony had repeated himself with a glare for good measure.

"Uh… Neighbor saw the door open and came to take a look, found this." He stammered, gesturing to the open door.

"Didn't they find a kid?"

"A _kid_? No."

Tony turned his back and hurried inside the house again. Ziva followed him, glancing back apologetically to the stricken cop.

Gibbs was already there, and as soon as he heard there was a young girl missing, he'd been as about to murder someone as Tony. The two of them seemed to be on one of those moments where they were perfectly in sync with each other's thoughts, and Ziva and McGee had been left feeling lost and a little tossed out.

"Anyone seen her?" He immediately asked.

"No, the house was empty, no signs of anyone leaving or running nearby."

"Put out a BOLO?"

McGee was already reaching for his laptop when Tony spoke. "Don't." He said, as if struck by a sudden thought. "I think- I think I know where to find her."

After that, Ziva found herself next to the two men as they briskly made their way to a crime scene they'd opened just a couple of days previously. The conversation had left her a little in the sand, but Gibbs hadn't asked any more questions, instead trusting Tony's word and taking off after him. McGee had stayed at the _current _crime scene, waiting for Ducky.

Instead of continuing down the street to the closest entrance, Tony stopped abruptly as soon as they reached the outside wall of the house.

At first, she thought it was because of the men lying on the ground in front of them.

Their guns were out in a flash, but Ziva noticed the surprise on his face as Tony finally caught sight of them. A nudge of her foot confirmed that they were either dead or passed out. Since they were in a side street, it wasn't that surprising that no one had noticed them, if they hadn't been there long. And if they hadn't been there long, then that meant that their attacker was probably still there too.

"Ziva. Boss." Tony called their attention quietly, his face pale and sweaty as he gestured to the wooden sticks next to the men. "Wands." The blood rushed away from her face, and she could hear the faint growl coming from Gibbs' throat.

He picked up the sticks and stuck them in his pocket, calling McGee to call an ambulance. Then Tony turned his attention to the task at hand. He gestured to the corner of the house they stood next to, and Ziva realized that must be the 'secret entrance' Mary had used to get to them before.

Carefully, and aiming his weapon at the bushes, their boss pushed the small branches aside. Ziva and Tony stood on either side of him, staying out of sight but covering him.

And a flurry of small limbs crashed with a scream on Gibbs, who barely had time to widen his eyes and open his arms to steady himself and whoever threw themself at him. And then they caught sight of their 'attacker'.

Their weapon hands dropped.

"Easy, easy, _easy_!" Tony yelled, trying to restore calm and holstering his gun. His arms reached out to the little girl, who had tears streaming down her face.

"Tony!" She cried. And only when then did she stop struggling, breaking into tears in his arms. Ziva tried not to stare. It was bad enough that McGee had noticed.

Ziva saw her partner nearly be engulfed by the little girl, and desperately trying to stay up. Gibbs held out an arm and steadied him, and Ziva put her own gun in its holster.

Gibbs was the only one not that stupid, and Ziva was reminded of why he'd been the last one standing in Jenny's office. He entered the house through the bushes, and Ziva, alarmed to the situation, hurried to fish her gun and follow him. Tony stared helpless after them, Mary having her head buried in his shoulder. She couldn't help but notice that he'd been comforting a lot of crying girls lately.

Well, mostly herself.

The patio they'd emerged to was clear, so, instead of searching the house by themselves, Gibbs called for a team to do it for them, so that was how she knew that he was convinced that there was no one there.

When they stepped out, Ziva's eyes immediately focused on Tony, sitting on a piece of unimpeded wall. Mary was curled into him. She'd stopped crying, only releasing the occasional sob, and Tony was whispering soothingly into her ear. The moment his eyes landed on them, he seemed to be begging for help. Gibbs apparently thought he was perfectly fine on his own, so he turned away and went to check with the LEOs that had arrived in the meantime.

In his defense, her partner had _tried _not to look thoroughly terrified about having a kid in his hands. Figuratively and literately.

Eventually, Mary calmed down enough to pull back, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. Her hair was disheveled, her lower lip was bitten to draw blood, and there were tears all over her face. It tugged at her chest. She approached them, hiding her gun in its place and couching down in front of the two. Mary's back slouched further against Tony's chest and, after a brief hesitation, he began rubbing lightly her arm.

Ziva glanced at him with a question in her eyes. He shook his head slightly – he'd do it. "Mary?" He called softly. His answer was a sniffle and her face pressed against his chest. They took that as a good sign. "Can you tell me – how did you get here?"

She slowly withdrew, sitting properly in his lap as if it was a bench. His hands automatically grasped her arms to steady her. Her eyes were puffy, and Ziva regretted that they had to question her. "I-" A hiccup interrupted her. "I c-came… when… when the bad men attacked mummy and daddy." A sob erupted from her throat. "Everything was all green, and then they fell, and-" She was shaking, so Tony kissed the top of her head and told her that this could wait.

She shook her head at that. "I want to t-talk now. Not later." Tony crossed his gaze with Ziva. She held her palms open upwards in helplessness. I she wanted to speak, they shouldn't stop her. He exhaled through his nose.

Just then, one of the men moaned, and the three of them turned to him. Mary promptly screamed, and Tony jumped. "They hurt mummy!" She cried, clutching Tony's arm with white knuckles.

Ziva snapped into action immediately. She slapped handcuffs on the one waking up, and then let him fall to the floor, _accidently_ knocking him out again. "Oops." She mumbled, shrugging in an I-am-so-clumsy gesture. Tony grinned. She put handcuffs on the other one and then dragged them both to lean against the wall.

"Can you tell me what they did?" Ziva kneeled next to the two of them, the soft tone in her vice aiming to annihilate the bad question.

Mary clutched Tony's jacket more tightly, and he rubbed her arm more vigorously. "Those men- they just- they just appeared in the living room." Her voice was shacking, but she was very coherent for someone her age that had seen what she'd seen. "Made a loud _pop_ each."

The memory that assaulted her then wasn't, thankfully, an erased one. That description sounded very much like the way Harry and his friends had appeared in the house behind them – Apparition, they'd called it. According to them, any wizard could do it.

"And then… I was next to the door, because my parents were going to take me out, and the door was open. Mum and dad fell and I screamed. The two men" She glanced at the offending people with a sniff. "turned to me and I ran. They followed me, but I didn't stop running until I reached grandma's house and hid there." She pointed at the bushes they'd found her in. "But they found me, and I- I screamed and they fell too. Then I stayed there, and you found me." She touched her cap, and Ziva noticed she was wearing Tony's NCIS hat. She'd wondered where it'd gone when he'd returned to the living room without it.

"I didn't know your dad was in the Navy." Tony tried to change the subject, since it was obvious they weren't going to get any more from her. It was preferable to keep her form thinking about it.

Before she was able to answer, however, Ziva saw a man appear with a loud noise through the corner of her eye. And, suddenly, the conversation was drowned out from her, her vision narrowed to him and him only, and her mind lost everything but the thought of causing as much pain as possible.

Ziva didn't think, didn't pause to consider what she was doing – she threw herself at the man, and in less than three seconds – she counted – his wand lay broken on the ground, and he had dislocated both his elbows and one shoulder, quickly threatening to dislocate the other one. She twisted – as painfully as she could – his wrists behind his back, and her feet stomped on his heels, one at a time. Hollered was a weak, but the closest, adjective she had to what he did.

"You, huh, need any help with that?" Tony was grinning at her – maybe his brain was telling him that this was someone he shouldn't like. He hadn't moved an inch, and Mary had a fascinated expression, sitting in his lap. When Ziva made the guy's voice raise a couple of octaves in answer, he lowered his eyes to the man on the ground instead. "Sorry, wrong person – what about you? You need any help?" The guy was too busy keeping himself from screaming to answer.

That was when Gibbs showed up. He took a good look at the broken piece of wood, the two guys restrained against the wall and the man suffering Ziva's ire, and he shrugged, picking up the latest wand. "Explanation?" He asked mildly.

"Mary says they're responsible for the scene at the apartment-" He avoided being direct in front of Mary, nodding at the two unconscious men, one of them resting his head on the shoulder of the other. "Ziva randomly attacked that one-" He gestured at the red-faced man, whose eyes looked ready to pop out of his face. "and the…" He glanced at Mary, who wasn't paying any attention to the conversation, seemingly having decided she didn't _want _to hear it. He hoped her memories weren't messed with. "thing you picked up is his." He pointed at the man under Ziva's knee again.

Gibbs crouched down in front of the guy, emphatically patting on a rapidly forming bruise in his neck. You'd think Ziva would be more careful about the carotid after last time. He cried out.

"So, who are you, and what did you do to annoy her?" He asked with a blank expression.

"Nothing!"

Ziva was ready to spit in the guy's face, and that must have shown in her expression, because, panting, the man struggled to backpedal before he died. "I- _Oh, Merlin, please stop-_" He moaned, already unable to yell. "I was doing my job! I'm-"

The rest of his sentence was lost in the strangled cry she made him produce, which almost masked the sound of the same noise Mary had been trying to replicate.

"You know, we'd really appreciate it if you allowed us to take him home in one piece." A familiar British voice announced in amusement.

Harry was leaning, arms crossed, against the wall. He was smiling, and his eyes had only momentarily flickered to the guy on the ground.

"What is this, let's-find-people-we-only-met-this-week-again-all- in-the-same-spot day?" Tony gingerly moved Mary to the knee furthest from Harry, not exactly trusting of any wizard what-so-ever. Gibbs suspiciously and inconspicuously inched closer to him, in case he needed back-up.

Harry grinned. "No, don't worry. I'll be going soon." He glanced at the guy on the floor. "Though I'd appreciate it if he were to come with me."

Ziva's answer was a glare and an increase of the pressure on his back. "This… _man_" She dislike the word for him. "was the one who hit Abby while she was already on the floor, 'froze' me and Tony and knocked out Gibbs."

In one swift movement, her position had been replaced by her boss. And, by the way the guy howled, he didn't like the replacement. "She means with a spell! I didn't hit your daughter physically!" He yelled. Gibbs buried his fist in his kidney to show how much difference it made. Harry cringed at the sound he made, then smiled weakly. "Yes, well," He began. "he _was _doing his job."

"A very good job, he did, too." She snarled at him, moving closer to Tony. "We managed to knock his two friends to the floor-"

"Ground." Tony, muttered.

"- before he could get all of us – except Gibbs. And then he needed help with taking _him _out!"

Gibbs surprised glance told her that Tony hadn't mentioned her description of the fight to him. "There were seven of you!" His voice was muffled because his nose was pushed into the sidewalk ground. Gibbs gave him a tap, and he yelled so loud it must have been heard all the way across the street.

Ziva restrained herself from kicking him, instead kicking the ground and making sure the man got a face-full of dust and dirt. "One was knocked out before the fight began. Two others were on the ground, very much not fighting material. The remaining four of us were weaponless, and facing three of you, whose working weapons we did _not _know the working mechanics of." He didn't have the opportunity to reply when his face was pushed further against the floor stones.

Her outburst over and done with, Ziva turned to Harry with a cold glare. "So, what is he doing here?"

Harry hesitated – and Ziva had her answer. "Hey, look, it's not _my _fault. But, you can rest assured, his assignment has been aborted." He sighed. "It took a lot of work, but – congratulations! You are the new liaison team to all cases magic." He clapped his hands several times in the still silence. Something told Ziva that all the _bravado_ and joking was to cover up the trauma McGee had said he'd made a speech about. He'd told her and Tony all about it earlier.

Gibbs raised the face of the man on the ground, and Ziva saw that he was passed out –lucky him. He stood up very calmly, but Ziva doubted his anger toward the guy had been quenched by something as frivolous as unconsciousness. Harry grimaced as he took a look at him. "Well, that's nasty."

Gibbs observed him quietly for a handful of seconds before finally speaking. "How are we going to be liaisons with the American…" He was looking disturbed at the word he had to say. "_Wizarding _Ministry, if our memories will be erased every time?"

"That's the point – they _won't_." He smiled at them, and Ziva felt herself warm to him at his words. "You can even have the ones erased back, if you want."

The way Tony and Gibbs' heads snapped up told her that that had interested them a great deal. And even Ziva was appreciative and enticed by the offer.

And then she came to her senses. Her and Tony's… _predicament_, the way Gibbs would most likely completely lose his faith in Jenny. The hours of paperwork punishment demanded by Gibbs because of both of those facts.

The memories weren't worth it. Though a part of her rebelled and said '_screw Jenny, let Tony remember what we did_', she immediately stepped forward, before Harry did something he couldn't take back. "I cannot let you do that."

Harry turned to her with raised eyebrows, but, as soon as he took a look at her expression, he seemed to understand. He nodded, but he left her to explain. "Ziva?" Tony asked quietly in bewilderment.

She turned to her coworkers, noticing that Mary was nodding off in Tony's shoulder. Repressing the way that sight squeezed her mid-section, she silently begged them to let it go before pleading in words. "There are things…" She swallowed dry air. "You do not want to remember."

Tony had to understand – at least he knew what had happened last January. He didn't disappoint her. He didn't look happy about it, but seemed content in the certainty that his partner would be his very own portable memory whenever he wanted to remember something.

Gibbs took longer to convince, even after watching Tony agree with her. At first, her boss' expression was impassive, and he looked nowhere near changing his – but then _something_ changed, and Ziva knew she'd win. He trusted her. So he visibly gave in, repressing a sigh, and relief clouded her brain for a few seconds.

Desperate to change the subject again, she turned her back to the two men and ordered Harry to say something light-hearted with her eyes.

He grinned at that. He supposed he'd endured enough glares with his wife to be immune. But he complied anyway. "By the way, after what you did to their employees, the Americans don't like you much. So they decided to make sure you interact with the British government instead, who will in its turn, communicate with the American one." Ziva wisely chose not to comment on that.

Tony stared at him. "We angered someone – and, besides not remembering it," He briefly glanced at his partner. "we neither know, nor did we ever know, who that is."

Harry nodded cheerfully, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Pretty much."

"So, you were here to help him erase our memories before your mission got 'aborted'?" Gibbs suddenly asked, and his narrowed eyes meant that he was testing his loyalties and intentions, besides being curious – Harry _had _said he was a cop, so what was he doing erasing memories?

"Nah. After last time, they decided he needed an Auror escort. I volunteered. And normally, I'm not denied much, even if it's another government's issue, so here I am." He looked at the man on the floor, and Ziva remembered the guy's very American accent. "We were supposed to Apparate here together, but I guess I kinda lost him." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. At their raised eyebrows, he shrugged, turning serious briefly. "Hermione's not the only one who disagrees with the memory tampering. And anyway, they told me to take care of another problem as long as I was here." And he gestured at Mary, who, at being mentioned, sharpened her attention.

Standing up, she took a wide-eyed step behind Tony, heart beating rapidly in fear, and hiding behind his legs. The special agent didn't really know what he'd done to deserve her trust, but hell if he was going to disappoint her.

Tony immediately stiffened, and his hand dropped unconsciously to his holster. "What do you mean, 'problem'?" He demanded.

Harry was briefly surprised. "You don't know yet? I figured you'd seen the accidental magic." He crouched down, hands above his head in a non-threatening gesture. He looked directly into Mary's eyes. "You're a witch, little one."


	10. Indented Judgements and Legal Felonies

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

Ziva placed her hands on Mary's ears at the torrent of curses that left Tony's mouth, which made the little girl crack the first grin since they'd found her.

Granted, it wasn't the first string of inappropriate words he'd made recently – it was the third time in the last half-an-hour alone – but she seemed to be starting to find it very funny.

Gibbs had wanted to break up the small party they'd started outside of the little girl's grandparents' home – or ex-home, as she'd told them repeatedly – but he was by no means done speaking to Harry. In his turn, the wizard had told them that, as their first official assignment as the liaison team (Gibbs had rolled his eyes at the mock-pompous tone the young man had used), they would be aiding in the investigation of a crew of Death Eaters' descendants – he'd said the Death Eaters were Voldemort's followers, which had quickly interested the team leader in what Harry was saying.

"Why? I mean," Tony had said when Harry was done speaking. "I'm not complaining, but why that case?"

Harry had glanced at the two wizard prisoners (which he had insisted in binding at his own taste – meaning, he'd used a spell), shook his head and said they'd been read in in the Navy Yard. And that was the end of that.

They'd gotten McGee, and Tony had spent the better part of the trip back to HQ pestering him about how he always missed all the fun.

Then he apparently remembered what the wizard had said about Mary being a witch, and spent the rest of the trip pestering _Harry _about how that was possible.

Eventually, he'd decided to vent with a curse, and when he saw that that raised Mary's spirits, he repeated it several times with some serious exaggeration.

The little girl had come with them, in lack of any better idea. Tony hadn't wanted to separate himself from her, and when Gibbs had picked up on that, he'd 'ordered' him to bring her along, being a material witness. Tony had happily complied.

"I'm just saying," Tony started again, determined to make sure everyone around him got a headache. "How could you possibly know that she's a- a _witch_?" He'd become as allergic to the family of words as Gibbs had.

Harry was frankly understanding. He'd answered every last question that Tony had asked, even the obvious, pointless ones. But even _his _patience was wearing thin, and Tony could see from the frown that he was trying to hide his irritation.

"Are you her uncle or something?" He finally asked, rather unexpectedly. "Cousin? Really older brother?"

Ziva swallowed her laughter, following the scowling Tony to the conference room. "Friend."Ziva's amusement and Harry's annoyance faltered at the unusually serious tone of voice.

Harry looked slightly sheepish. "Right. Sorry."

Mary was sleeping, downstairs in the bullpen, in her desk. McGee was there with her. The remaining three officers had followed the wizard to the conference room after dumping the two still unconscious suspects in interrogation.

The man with a few extra bruises had already been sent home by Harry. As soon as he'd woken up, he'd looked like he wanted to strangle all of them – the broken wand and the lack of support of his only back-up had probably not mellowed him out. Muttering rather sarcastic thank-yous to Harry, he'd cringed at the cab he'd had to take before leaving. Harry hadn't bothered to fix him up before he'd entered the yellow car.

"Anyway," Harry began, and his tone was a little different, as if now he was prepared to give every detail and answer every question. "I know she's a witch because she did accidental magic. It's what I was sent there to check out."

"Accidental magic?"Ziva was more focused, now that they were all sat around a table, attention trained on the discussion at hand only.

Harry nodded. "Yes – when a child, without a wand yet, accidentally triggers a spell or curse. It is usually messy, uncontrolled and random-"

"Three words to say one thing." Gibbs had a new coffee in his hand, perched on a chair next to Tony.

Harry scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, you're right – it's the Hermione in me." That was the second time he'd said something like that, and Tony still didn't get it. "Regardless, she did some accidental magic, and I was sent to make sure it hadn't become a problem." He shrugged. "It hadn't. No one saw a thing, and you actually took care of it for me."

Tony rested his elbows on the table, bent forward with crossed arms. "How'd we do that?"

"Her accidental magic was knocking out the two men you cuffed at the scene." Harry grinned, placing his hands behind his head and nearly sending his chair toppling to the floor as he leaned back. "Problem solved."

Ziva rolled his eyes and Gibbs sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable. "And the two men at the scene…" Tony prompted.

"Are part of the bigger problem I am here to talk to you about. Which has not been solved yet." Suddenly, Harry didn't seem so peppy.

"The Eaters descendants." Tony guessed, deliberately getting the name wrong.

Harry snickered. "Some people would kill you for the disrespect, you know. Well," He corrected, absent-mindedly tapping on the table. "The same people would kill you just for breathing, but that's another matter completely."

"Tony is aggravating, yes," Ziva acknowledged, frowning slightly in alarm. "but why would those people want to kill him just because?"

Harry settled himself as comfortable as he could, apparently realizing this wasn't going to be a quick talk. "Because they are young, impressionable, and easily manipulated. They reckon they're upholding the memories of their parents, _and_¸ on top of that, they're old classmates of mine. They got a personal _vendetta_. And also because it's not just Tony, but rather all of you."

"Sounds like you got a great thing going. I don't really feel like intruding." Tony piped up – Gibbs had been silent for too long to comment.

Harry shook his head, knowing he wasn't serious about jumping ship. "The class reunion isn't the problem. The killing spree they got going is." His voice turned serious. "Started in England, and then they recently opened business in your wonderful country." He waved his wand and the information was suddenly hovering in the air.

"What're they after?" Tony's attention snapped back to the task at hand. His eyes had been less focused on the words then on the open air they were hanging on.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Same thing Voldemort was after. The guy might've been a bastard, but he set a goal and he achieved it. People won't forget his name anytime soon. Anyway," He continued at the blank stares he received. "They want to purge the world of all its unworthy bugs and keep only the pure blooded."

There was a pause. "Are you serious?" Gibbs finally erased any doubts that he was in the room.

"Very."

"Racial discrimination. You're talking about something WW II style." Gibbs said quietly. The only noise in the room for the next few seconds was only the soft tap his cup made when it came in contact with the table.

Having hesitated, Harry shrugged uneasily before answering. "_Was_ talking about something WW II style. That's over, and I've told you about it. These are just sloppy copycats. Trust me – it's nothing to what it used to be." He sighed, his eyes flashing an unreadable thought. "But they're still causing harm. Mary's parents' murder was-" His eyes flickered to Tony. "was one of many. Mary was lucky, actually. They weren't really after her mother and father." He let the meaning behind that sentence hang in the air, and make Tony's stomach want to return its lunch to the world earlier than planned.

Tony, staring at the table his fingers were drumming on, was the one to put an end to the silence. "Right. So how do we stop it? Apparently, we don't have weapons that work on them, and, also apparently, we have no way of tracking them."

"Guess you're hitting the gym, DiNozzo." Gibbs announced casually, throwing his emptied cup behind him. It landed flawlessly inside the bin.

For some reason, Ziva's lips curled up at that, and the mischief in her eyes told Tony to keep his mouth shut about it.

"'Course, Boss."Was his immediate answer. "So, like I was saying, we have no way of tracking them."

Harry smirked at the exchange, but he seemed to take pity on the senior agent. He allowed himself an amused tone only. "Don't worry, you won't have to track them. We've got that covered. What we'd appreciate from you is, however, protection to the families with Muggleborns."

"Muggleborns?"Ziva repeated, her tone prodding him for an explanation.

He grimaced. "Sorry, sometimes I forget I'm not in the Wizarding World." Gibbs' impatient look told him he wasn't really interested in the apology. "Right – Muggleborns: witches and wizards born to Muggle parents."

"Fine. Consider it done." Gibbs agreed. Then he switched into interrogation mode again. "Why are they being targeted?"

"I told you already – they are, according to them, _impure of blood_. They don't have the right to use the gift they were born with. Isn't it obvious?" The tone of his voice answered his own question.

Tony thought about the adorable little girl sleeping downstairs. For some reason, impure wasn't the first word that jumped to mind when thinking about her. He cleared his throat to ease the thick quiet. "So – protection."

Harry nodded, looking grateful for the subject change. "Yes. They're only sending two people at a time, because they don't expect resistance. If you take care of the security, then they'll caught by surprise. Besides, we're low on resources. And warn your men that weapons are pointless. They need a physical fight if they're going to win."

"Right. And what do you expect us to tell them as an excuse?" Ziva brought up the issue.

Harry shrugged, and the brief panic in his eyes – which he was trying very hard to conceal – explained Tony the plan. "It doesn't matter." He guessed. "You'll erase their memories anyway."

His answering apology meant that there was nothing any of them could do.

"Do you solve all your problems by messing with peoples brains, or just the ones you can't be bothered with?" Gibbs asked, mildly glaring at the wizard.

He shrugged, lifting his hands helplessly. "Look, I don't like it, I _am _against it but… I also understand that it's necessary. Imagine if everyone knew there was magic in the world – if everyone knew that only a small population could practice it, and the others had to stand and watch."

Tony could see his point. Even if he didn't like it, secrets, just like clearance levels, existed for a reason. Protection didn't come cheap or easy, and you couldn't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Some people might be harmed by it, but, in the end, it amounted to keeping a lot more of others safe.

"I mean, we're powerful, sure, but about three quarters of the world are Muggles. We'd probably be annihilated." Harry spoke airily, like a guy commenting the weather.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but Tony knew the younger man had gotten through to his boss.

"DiNozzo, David, send teams to the list of the people that need protection."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Er- would you like that list _before_hand?" He asked, seemingly struggling not to show the grin in his voice.

Tony was already halfway to the door, ignoring the slight mocking. "No need, McGee'll compile it in a minute."

Harry blinked several times. "Uh- Not to be rude, but _how_? The words 'witch' and 'wizard' don't usually pop up on people's files."

"McGee always finds another way." And with that, they left.

"Why did Gibbs want to speak to him alone?" Ziva asked, the moment the door closed behind them.

Tony shrugged, mulling over it. "He's gotten too comfortable around you and me." He realized. "To be confortable around Gibbs, however" He followed her down the stairs. "is an achievement very few have managed in the past."

Ziva acknowledged that, reaching their level. "Yes, but why would he want him to be uncomfortable? What does he want to talk about?"

He shrugged in response, as clueless as she was, approaching the bullpen. "Whatever it is, he also wants us to make sure the kids are safe, so- MCGEE!" He yelled. Ziva nearly jumped, before swirling around to him, suddenly remembering the car drive the previous day.

"Do. Not. Yell." She fumed, pushing him with a well-placed hand on his stomach. "It is annoying." She didn't know why it was upsetting her so much. Maybe the headache was not fully gone.

He grinned – clearly her death threats had grown stale. "I was just calling McGee's attention. You know, make sure he wasn't sleeping again." Tony plopped down on his desk. Mary giggled.

McGee stole a glance at him in annoyance as Ziva sat down, rolling her eyes at the discussion. "No, I wasn't, but Mary was." His tone told Ziva he was lying. He really needed to learn how to control his features better. Besides, there were pencils and paper all over McGee's desk, obviously recently used.

"No, she wasn't." Tony announced happily, opening a drawer and pulling out a rectangular cardboard box. "Unless she sleep-draws. Saw it from way over there." He vaguely gestured in the direction they'd come from, not even looking. He opened the box – of what she realized were biscuits - and offered it to Mary, who peered inside curiously.

"Do they have chocolate?" She asked, looking up at him again.

He made a face, taking one and showing it to her before eating it himself. "Nah, sorry kiddo. Butter."

She saw his surprised expression when she seemed satisfied with that answer, happily taking one herself. "Good. I don't like chocolate." Ziva chuckled.

"Yeah, I knew that. I'm smart that way." He told her, placing the box on the desk so that she had full access to it.

Since Tony had apparently forgotten the reason he'd yelled McGee's name in the first place, Ziva decided to take over. "McGee, Gibbs wants you to make a list of children who might be witches and witches born of non-magical parents." She told the junior agent, glancing around briefly to make sure no one would dub her as insane.

"Why?" He asked, one eye already on the computer as he started working on the task and the other on her, awaiting her answer with a confused frown.

"We were asked to place them under protection – apparently we are dealing with a… gang, of sorts, that is after them." She shrugged, and the message was clear: for the last few days, she'd heard enough craziness for a life-time. She had given up trying to process it all.

McGee nodded, turning back to the computer. "I guess I need to get creative…" He mumbled, typing quickly and effectively.

Tony was watching Mary munch on a cookie while she absent-mindedly made a picture of her parents, but he looked up at that. "Right, so – Ziva and I will brain-storm for ya'!" Tony said in forced cheerfulness, both trying not to think about the little girl's drawing on the floor and hoping to annoy McGee in his boredom.

It was pointless, however. McGee didn't even spare him a look, completely focused on his work.

"Brain-storm about what?"Ziva decided to ask, stopping the paperwork and leaning forward, a little eager to escape her own boredom.

"About how we can make that list."

"What makes you think we can?" She was just delaying the moment she had to pick up the pen again.

"There's got to be a way." Now he was becoming serious, brows furrowing in thoughtfulness.

"You do not know that." She challenged, eyes falling to Mary distractedly.

"Then how did Snoring One and Snoring Two in Interrogation know that Mary was a- witch?" He almost didn't stutter at the word this time, and he was looking triumphant at his discovery.

The little girl frowned, looking from Tony to Ziva with a slightly upset expression. "What does that mean, Tony? 'Witch?' The man before called me that, too."

Tony looked more than a little panicked. "Uh… Yeah, well, how about we let him explain, when he comes back, uh?" He forced a smile, but his words only made her frown further and fidget under both their scrutiny. She dropped it however, eyes returning to the paper.

So far, she hadn't asked about her parents – though there were several sheets representing what were obviously them strewn around on the floor. Ziva held no illusions that that was the result of her infant naïveté – Mary knew very well what had happened to her mother and father. Tony had been right about one thing – she was smart. Ziva imagined that she was trying to protect herself under a layer of deniability.

"So, do you think they are awake?" She decided to make everyone more comfortable by asking.

Tony jumped at her question like a dog with a bone. "I dunno. How about we go check?"

"Pointless. They won't regain consciousness for another two hours." Harry and Gibbs were back.

Ziva did a quick analysis of their expressions. Harry's was as ever – cheerful, mischievous and falsely carefree. Gibbs' was impassive – she got nothing from him. Her conclusion was that she wouldn't find out what was discussed in that room.

"Why?" She resorted to find out what she _could _ask about.

"Because I've seen enough Stunning spells to know how long they last." Harry sat on the corner of Tony's table.

Mary nervously etched closer to the senior agent, and he picked her up, placing her on his knee. She glanced at him before speaking. "Tony said- He said that you'd explain why you called me a witch."

And the next hour was spent with Harry happily explaining all about magic and the Wizarding World. At first, Ziva had been worried – every time someone passed through their bullpen, she'd nervously glance at the chatting wizard – until she realized that no one was paying the slightest attention to him.

She decided not to ask.

She'd almost forgotten about McGee when he gave a cry of triumph.

"I got it!"


	11. Vague Facts and Case Briefings

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"What d'you got, McGee?" It was tradition that Gibbs say that, even if he didn't need to.

"A way to make a list. And the actual list, too." He hastened to add at his boss' look.

Tony and Ziva approached the junior agent's desk, each leaning behind him, perched on either of his shoulders. He didn't seem to notice that among his excitement of frenetically murdering the keys on his keyboard.

Harry looked interested. "Really? From Muggle records?" He approached them too, elbows on the opposite side of Tim's table and chin on his hands.

McGee nodded. "Here it is." He sent it to the plasma. "I only ran DC, because that's the extent of the area we can cover." He warned. The list was big enough, about three pages long, and Tony wondered how many kids had already been attacked.

McGee stood up, adopting his explanation voice. "Okay, so, first, I started with the kids who are already in… well, whatever school you send witches and wizards to." He glanced at Harry, who motioned for him to continue, shaking his head to tell them the information wasn't important at the moment. "Uh, right, so – this was the easy part. All I had to do was search the ones with zero activity during the school year – like you had." McGee nodded in Harry's direction and the young man looked impressed, grinning.

"Those" McGee continued. "were all kids between ten and eighteen years old. But I guessed that wasn't all, since Mary" He chanced a glance at the child, who was listening with rapt attention. "is only eight. I did assume you don't want protection for the adults?" His sentence had turned into more of a question by the end, but Harry shook his head, agreeing with him, so he continued.

"Then, finding the younger ones. That was the tricky part. At first, I thought they found them by magic." He glanced at Harry, who immediately shook his head.

"No. With the Ministry, we can only tell either when there has been magic done in front of Muggles, or when the magic done is a spell of reasonable strength. Mary's case was the second."

"That's what I figured. So I found another way – social networks." He grinned smugly at their expressions of bewilderment. "Whoever those guys are, they are _committed_. They have been literally glued to computer screens, and whenever someone posted anything remotely about any weird occurrences– they-" He stopped abruptly, taking sight of Mary. "They check it out. I imagine they made a list, because they've already seen a lot of posts-"

"Hold up." Harry interrupted, looking confused. "How do you know all this?"

"Uh, I spotted the pattern and pin-pointed the IP addresses. Then I saw the records of their searches." He said. Harry still looked bewildered, but he shook his head, muttering something about being out of the Muggle world for too long. "Anyway, there are several computers always conducting searches. Whoever it is, they're good. They know exactly how to find what they're looking for as fast as possible by-" He shut up abruptly when Gibbs glared at him. "You don't really care- Right, so – the point is, I have the list. The weird thing is, they could have hidden their IP's, but they didn't. And their history is wide open for everyone to see. It's like they're _trying _to be found. The only reason I've discovered this much from such vague information is because they're making efforts so that happens."

"Well, that would make sense." Harry spoke up. "They're pure-bloods, so they wouldn't know how to work with computers very well."

"Yeah, but," McGee looked troubled by this anomaly. "like I said, they're _good_. Everything else says so. They wouldn't make this mistake. Which is why it's strange."

"What if they're people they're forcing into doing this?" Gibbs questioned, another coffee in hand.

Harry paused in silence for a moment. "That" He said slowly. "actually makes a lot of sense. They're purebloods," He told them, the words beginning to rush out of his mouth as he continued his train of thought. "so they have no idea how to work with a computer. They would need Muggles to work them."

"DiNozzo, disappearances of anyone computer trained." Gibbs immediately ordered. Tony flew to his desk, starting up his screen.

McGee wasn't done yet, though. "The names on the list have started to be… visited." McGee's voice turned serious and stiff. "Police reports show that they've been taken out, one by one, following from top to bottom the list we got." He nodded at the plasma screen. "Witch means, our list matches theirs perfectly." His voice faltered, and Ziva figured that the information was over. "Boss… most of the kids they've hit so far are under nine-years-old."

That revelation brought silence. Tony paused his work, Mary bowed her head, as if she knew exactly what that sentence meant, and everyone else stood, rather rigid, not knowing what to do. Then Tony clenched his teeth and doubled his speed in typing.

That seemed to be the spurring they needed to come out of their shock. "Right. Location, McGee?"

"No." Harry spoke up. His voice was sad, but sure, and he was absolutely certain in his actions. Gibbs turned to him with a glare. "You can't." He repeated, making sure he left no doubts. "They are _too many_. I'm known for doing stupid and reckless things, and even I know not to do something so unbelievable idiotic."

Whatever retort their boss was about to give was drowned when Tony found what they were looking for. "Boss, _sixteen_ MIT graduates were kidnapped about a month ago." He was gaping at the screen, as if he couldn't believe what he was reading. "No evidence, no cameras, no witnesses, _nothing. _They just disappeared from a _class reunion_."

Harry nodded. "They took the opportunity."

"Are you _kidding_? How the hell is this a kidnapping of opportunity?" McGee sputtered in utter confusion. The wizard just raised an eyebrow. "Stupid question, of course." Tim muttered.

Harry grinned. "So they have really do have Muggles working for them?" He switched the subject, ad his surprise was, for once, evident in his face, even if the idea had been his. He'd obviously expected it to be a crazy thought, coming to nothing. "That's desperate. They hate you people." He gave them a half-glance. "No offence."

"None taken." Tony rolled his eyes.

Harry was about to say something else, but he was interrupted before he could.

"Agent Gibbs?" Someone called from outside their bullpen. "Your suspects are awake."

Harry was hesitating, obviously struggling not to stop them in their tracks immediately. "I'm not sure you should be the ones interviewing him…" His voice trailed off at the expression on Gibbs' face.

McGee had stayed behind with Mary again, and he was actually starting to become a little disgruntled that he was stuck baby-sitting for the second time. Which, of course, had delighted Tony, and the senior agent had wasted no time in displaying his glee. Ziva had, however, dragged him off after Gibbs before their boss needed to head-slap him again. They'd taken off to Interrogation, and Harry had followed.

"We're trained in interrogation." Tony told him, mildly annoyed. "We can get it out of them."

"At least give him that." He threw them two vials and Tony caught one while Gibbs grabbed the other. "Verisaterum. Truth serum." He explained further.

"_Seriously_?" He asked in wide-eyed astonishment, eyes peering a lot more closely at the small bottle of transparent liquid.

Harry nodded, smirking a little at his childlike enthusiasm. "Yeah – sure could have used that a couple of times in my life." He mumbled, and Tony got the feeling that that wasn't for their ears. "Anyway, a few drops should be enough. I really should go in there with you-" He tried again, but Gibbs interrupted him.

Rolling his eyes, their boss had stopped next to the first interrogation room. "DiNozzo, go talk to the other one." And he disappeared inside the door.

Harry shrugged in defeat, slipping into the observation once. Ziva followed Tony down the hallway. He entered the interrogation room, she slipped inside observation. He was slightly uneasy about conducting an interrogation with the bare minimum of information about the guy – all he knew, literately, was that he had moved to the states as a small child with his mother, under the pretense that they wanted to get away from the reputation his father had left him.

The moment his foot appeared through the door, the guy was snarling in protest. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Hey, aren't you the guy my partner knocked out with the help of the ground?" He asked mildly, dropping into the chair on the other side of the table he was on. The guy leaned back, as if physically repulsed by him, and Tony raised his eyebrows.

"That's you, right?" Tony shoved the file – a picture they'd taken and the name Mulciber, given to them by Harry – he had in his hands in front of him, and it distracted the guy enough for him to drop the liquid Harry had given him into the glass of water there – brought earlier, as per his request, by Harry, who, though Mulciber hated, he didn't consider dirty.

"What did you just do?" He asked immediately, glaring at him.

"Hm? Me? I didn't do a thing." Thankfully, Mulciber was staring at the middle of the table, where he had seen his arm hovering. He hadn't seen the vial, or Tony dropping part of its contents into the glass. "So, back to the interrogation."

Besides leaning even further back, the only thing that had changed in Mulciber's demeanor was that he was pointedly avoiding the place of the table he'd seen Tony's arm on.

"I am not speaking to your kind." He grabbed his glass, as if worried that Tony would poison it, and held it in his hands close to his body.

Tony settled in to start talking in a way that would completely lose him. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Usually from Italian haters. I guess people kinda resent the whole tall, dark and handsom thing, you know? My philosophy is: haters gonna hate right up until I kick their sorry asses into next week. Then they'll hate me even _more_. And it won't be all about racism anymore, either!" He said cheerfully.

Apparently, his speech had lasted long enough to make him seriously thirsty, so Mulciber took a sip from his cup.

All set, then. "So, regarding racism – what can you tell me about the little project you and your buddies are undertaking?"

"Yeah, we've been trying to track down your mum." He really hoped the serum hadn't kicked in yet. Americans: wizards or not, they could never resist a mum crack.

He forced a smile. "Cute. I'm gonna repeat the question: what are you and your friends' plans, exactly?"

He seemed suspicious that Tony wasn't cracking jokes anymore, going straight to business (like anyone who spent over a minute with him would), but he answered anyway. "I told you. We've been trying t-" His voice faltered and Tony figured he'd be feeling talkative now. "We're gonna rid the world of the scum that's been tainting our noble blood."

Wow. He'd really just said that, hadn't he?

By the time Mulciber had widened his eyes in realization, it was too late.

"Sounds great." Tony tried not to clench his teeth. "I'm sure the kids and the families you've been murdering agree with you. So," He changed the subject, refusing to let himself show his anger too prominently. "any particular reason you've been focusing on small children?"

"Easier to take out." He muttered, obviously struggling to lie and unable to do so. That was pretty bright – Tony guessed keeping him mouth shut just hadn't occurred to him. "Don't know how to protect themselves yet."

For a moment, Tony forgot the proper rules of interrogation, and let his shock and disbelief show in his expression. The squirming being in front of him was crossing his arms, talking about murdering little defenseless children, and looking proud of it. He didn't get why he was calling Tony the disgusting one.

Unable to control himself, his foot connected with one of the legs of the table, and he leaned forward so much that his face became inches of Mulciber's, the guy unable to distance himself any further. "You always pick on people not your own size?"

Mulciber kept silent, apparently done sharing. He sneered, but Tony could smell the masked fear. "Don't worry about your current situation, though." The senior agent continued. The punk had nothing else to tell him. He thought about what McGee had relayed, regarding what Harry had said. "Harry Potter will be taking you home."

And Tony left, the image of the guy swallowing dry giving him too much satisfaction for his own good.

"How's Mary?" Were the first words out of his mouth as soon as he entered the observation room Ziva was in. He noticed Harry there too and gave him an acknowledging nod.

The look on her face was hard to pin-point. It was a mixture of sympathy, anger and cautiousness. She understood why he was so desperate to know, after watching his 'conversation' with Mulciber. "She is fine. McGee is still with her."

"I went downstairs, so I can attest to that." The wizard in question piped up. "And, while I'm speaking, I'm rather keen on knowing why you used my name to scare him." He sounded mildly annoyed, and mildly embarrassed.

Tony shrugged, unfazed, and went to lean against the glass, his back to Mulciber on the other side. He crossed his arms, blankly staring back at the young man. "I needed to use whatever I knew. And I didn't know much. You happened to be one of the things I could use."

"It kinda sounded like you just wanted him to piss his pants."

"That too."

Harry smirked. "Good. I hate people who lie about their true intentions." He made a face, as if he were familiar with that kind of event. Then he shrugged it off, peppy again, and leaned against the opposite wall than Tony. Ziva was left in the middle like some kind of barrier, and that seemed to make her uncomfortable, so she stepped to the side to stand by the door. "So, you seem pretty attached to… Mary, is it?" He commented casually. Tony got the feeling that he had both known her name perfectly well and that his comment was a prompt for something else.

Tony stared at him, not answering for a second or two. Then he gave a single nod.

Harry looked pleased about that, as if it was something he was worried about. "That's good. She's going to need someone who can be there for her, and I get the feeling that her family aren't exactly ready for that right now."

"What would you know about it?" Tony asked in mild annoyance. He had no idea who'd named him Mary's defense, but he was taking up the job pretty eagerly.

"I lost my parents when I was one, not eight, it's true." Tony, instantly regretful, opened his mouth to apologize, but Harry waved him off, wordlessly telling him that he wasn't saying that to make him feel bad. "So I never really got to know them. But," He continued. "I did meet a lot of people, throughout my life, who felt like parental figures. They helped me deal better with a lot of things. You have an opportunity to make it easier on her. You should take it." The blunt way he'd said it left him wondering it that was a piece of advice, or a commanding order.

He also had no idea what he was talking about. Mary had been uncharacteristically upset at seeing him leave upstairs – she knew who he was going to speak to - which had left him feeling uneasy. He was starting to worry, maybe a little too much, about her.

Harry left, and he was alone in the observation room with Ziva. And he was instantly sharply aware of the last time that'd happened, too.

She shuffled her feet, crossing her arms and looking down. He wished she wouldn't. He couldn't see her eyes that way.

He mentally cleared his throat at the thought. _Right_. She drummed her fingers on her arm, and he realized just how awkward the air had become. Obviously, he wasn't the only one remembering yesterday's… _thing_.

He took a step closer to her, facing her fully. He could hear her breathing quickening and see her eyes widening, and she was looking like she'd looked when she had one of her flashbacks. But she didn't seem anywhere close to pulling back, and he briefly wondered what exactly had happened during the time their memories were erased. He saw her lick her lips. Now he really wondered what had happened last January.

"I really don't wanna do this anymore." He had no idea what mind-bogglingly stupid being had told him to speak. Absolutely no clue. Maybe it had something to do with the permanently imprinted image in his brain of her wearing his shirt only. She turned to him, and there was something in her eyes that told him his next words should be chosen with care. It was also telling him that, for once, she wasn't unwilling to participate actively in that exchange of words.

_You have an opportunity. You should take it._ He was pretty sure that Harry hadn't meant for him to make an ass of himself with those words, but Ziva didn't look like she was going to punch him anytime soon, so he figured he was in the clear. He swallowed the urge to bolt and searched for whatever guts hadn't yet turned into jelly inside him.

"I have- _feelings_" The way he pronounced the word rang as though it was meant to sound as something else. "for you. Well, more of a deep-seated obsession, but that's hardly the point-" He was suddenly trying to joke. Well, old habits die hard.

"Tony." She warned, and he snapped his attention back to her brown, shinning eyes.

He nodded. "Right." And closed the inches between them to press his lips to hers.


	12. Cowardly Plans and Raising Spirits

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

The big, cheesy grins Tony and Ziva showed up in the bullpen with, returning from Interrogation, did not bode anything good for McGee. Only a headache.

He'd been having a weird day. Besides the obvious reasons, Tony becoming attached to a kid and the strange interactions between his fellow teammates were not things he called normal.

So, obviously, when he saw that the two of them were looking as though X-rated Christmas had come early, he bent his head down and pretended he hadn't noticed a thing. Self-protection was important, after all.

Mary, as soon as Tony showed up, made her way to him. Tim watched as the senior agent's expression softened to an extent McGee could have never imagined and he picked her up, sitting on his chair with the little girl in his lap.

The junior agent didn't even have to glance to know that Ziva had her eyes trained on them too while she distractedly sat down herself.

He wouldn't ask, because he _really _didn't want to know.

"Were you speaking with the men who hurt my parents?" She asked with quiet hesitation, refusing to look up from the box of cookies that was still on Tony's desk. His head shot up in alarm, frantically looking from McGee to Ziva, who were just as stumped as him.

She'd never breached the subject so far. McGee realized that the relative impasse they'd silently agreed to reach would have to end. Mary was asking the questions they didn't want to answer.

"I-" He stumbled over his words, and McGee switched wide eyes from him to the little girl. "I was, sweetheart." He was wholly tense, as if ready to flee at the barest prompt.

Mary's lips trembled slightly, and she slowly put down the piece of biscuit she was holding. "Mum and dad aren't- they aren't coming back, are they?" Her voice shook horribly.

McGee half-expected Tony to hand the little girl to someone else and take off. It wasn't that he didn't have faith in the senior agent – but he also didn't think that he'd actually try to handle the situation. And definitely not on his own.

Tony had, however, always been one to surprise him.

Gently wiping the tears that had formed in her eyes, he pulled her head to the crook of his neck as the first sob racked her body.

Ziva's eyes were wide when McGee glanced at her. Good to know he wasn't the only one thrown by this. He'd never, in his wildest dreams, imagine that Tony could be good with children. He'd never shown it in previous cases, and yet, from the first moment he'd seen Mary, it was as if he always knew what to do.

He started rubbing circles on her back, repeating his actions of earlier. Mary was refusing to look anywhere, eyes tightly shut as she tried to contain her crying. Though doing a remarkable job of comforting and calming her, Tony's expression was too livid and his posture too stiff for him to be completely at ease.

But there was nothing they could say that would make her feel better. McGee imagined maybe Harry could be able to help (his file did say he'd lost his own parents – Tim winced at that), but he was nowhere to be found. Gibbs wouldn't have let him leave – though the team leader wasn't around either.

Before they had to say something inadequate that would undoubtedly make things worse, however, they were saved by the ring of Tony's desk-phone. He picked it up, frowning worriedly at the girl in his lap. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." He greeted.

McGee heard the other side all the way from his desk. His theory that the telephone was just too loud was dismissed when Tony forcefully put some distance between himself and the piece of plastic. "_TONY!_" He heard it say in Abby's voice. "_WHY HAS MARY BEEN AT THE NAVY YARD FOREVER AND NOT ONCE BEEN DOWN HERE?_"

Tony immediately turned to McGee with a glare. "I didn't tell her!" He cried, holding his hands up in lack of guilt. "Palmer was here earlier."

Tony kept his glare up. "Abby had to know about her before that, McBlabber-Mouth…" He warned menacingly.

McGee made a face, caught. "I… might have told her about Mary yesterday…" He said, hesitating whenever the still-continuing screeching from the phone interrupted him.

Tony winced. "Jesus, Abs…" He muttered, distracted from his McGee-torture as the yelling kept on and on. It made Mary look up at him with wide eyes, shocked into stopping the tears momentarily. He grimaced.

"C'mon, Mary." He gingerly put the phone down, as if it were a bomb about to explode. "Abby's eccentric, but she's nice, and she'll put a smile on your face. Also, I kinda want to keep my life intact, so let's go meet her, shall we?"

"Well, she's certainly entertained down there." Tony told them dubiously, dropping onto his chair with a frown.

He'd gone to drop the little girl down in the Labby, and McGee actually thought that he could hear, from the lower level, the Forensic Scientist cooing and mewing and purring and whatever else cats did.

Tony had just returned, and he seemed to have made a temporary peace with McGee's fault in the whole situation.

"But?" Ziva prompted, smiling at his father-like concern as she leaned forward in her chair.

Tony hesitated. "It's just… Have you ever noticed how Abby is a walking butchering machine?"

"No."

"God, yes."

Ziva and Tony's eyes snapped to McGee briefly. "I do not want to know." Ziva announced, holding her hands up. The look on Tony's eyes told them she was speaking for herself, but then he seemed to regain control of himself.

He shook his head, and McGee recoiled at the unusual maturity. "Anyway," He continued, smirking at McGee just enough to tell him that his words wouldn't be forgotten. "she just has so many _spikes _in her clothes. It's dangerous!" He protested, sobered up instantly.

Ziva chuckled, fully aware that his problem wasn't exactly with Abby's clothes.

"You are cute when you are worried." She teased him, grinning at the expression he made at her words.

McGee pretended he was deaf again. Although that fell through, due the fact that he was staring at the pair very obviously.

Even though he was trying – hard - not to consider it, a stray thought wondered off to ask himself what exactly had happened when they were in Interrogation. Because he didn't remember them acting this way before they'd gone upstairs.

"What're you looking at, McStare?"

With a sigh, he resorted to turn to his work again, and blissful silence filled the room for the full amount of three minutes. A record, considering Tony was present. "So…" McGee heard the clutter of the pen falling on the table-top and the hiss of the chair as Tony leaned back. The senior agent's tone heavily suggested that the word he'd uttered had no proper intent, and that it was just a pretense to escape boredom. "Oh, look at that, Ziva's high-school pictures." He stated cheerfully and suddenly, scrolling down on his computer mouse.

McGee rolled his eyes, easily seeing the empty screen from his position, but Ziva frowned. "What?"

"Don't worry." McGee reassured the Israeli. "It's Tony. If that were true, he would be neither sitting down nor being so quiet."

Happy with that answer, Ziva nodded, standing up and stretching her arms. His suspicions that she was deliberately trying to provoke Tony were confirmed when he stared – lacking only the drooling – very visibly at her abdomen.

At McGee's snicker, however, he scowled, eyes narrowed. Then he stood up in his chair, put his hands around his mouth as if they were a megaphone, and promptly wiped the smile of both his coworkers' faces.

"ATTENTION!" He cried, and his request was heeded. Everyone within a thirty feet radius turned their heads to the source of the noise. "My coworker Timothy McGoo has advised me that I am not announcing my thoughts with the proper flair! So! I will _naughbl_-" His voice was muffled as Ziva slapped a hand on his mouth and pulled him from off his chair by his hair. He landed with a painful thump on the ground, and McGee actually winced.

When Ziva turned to the rest of the room, though, no one was paying them attention any longer. So used to Tony's antics, they'd lost their focus on him almost as soon as they'd gained it, and continued with their respective tasks.

"That not loud enough for you, McParade-Rainer?" Tony asked with a bright grin, turning his head to the younger agent from the floor, and not appearing to have no intentions of standing up.

Ziva walked to behind his desk and peered at his computer screen. "There are no pictures on your computer. As a matter of fact, your computer is actually _turned off_." Ziva sighed. "You are an idiot." She made her way to DiNozzo again.

With a groan, Tony made to right himself, and Ziva seemed to take pity on him, holding out a hand to help. Wrong move.

The moment Tony's fingers grasped his partner's hand, he pulled her wide-eyed form to the floor too. Breaking her fall with his own body, she fell with wide-eyed surprise on his chest. Tony grinned. "Hi." She paused, staring at him in slight disbelief at his juvenileness. McGee reminded himself that Tony was doing all of this just so he didn't have to do paperwork.

Then she shook herself out of it. "Are you enjoying yourself, Tony?" She used an inquisitive tone that everyone who knew her had learned to recognize as dangerous.

Obviously, Tony either didn't care or was oblivious, because he answered in a very bubbly tone. "Immensely."

She wriggled one hand free to pat his shoulder good-naturedly. "I am glad. People should be happy before they die."

McGee snorted as Tony pushed her gently off him and then shot up with a wince – which Tim associated to his back – and put some safe distance between himself and the Israeli.

She stood up too, brushing herself off with a lot more calm than him.

McGee supposed he ought to break up the fight before it became a full-blown war (those hadn't exactly ended well in the past), so he cleared his throat to draw attention to himself. "Hey, Tony? You mind telling me why you did _all of this_ just because you wanted to avoid red-tape?" McGee was pointedly indicating Ziva's pinched face.

"I needed to stretch my legs." He didn't disappoint with the usual stupid crack. "All the paperwork was making me a paraplegic."

"The paperwork you lasted about ten minutes doing."

"I have a _really _sensitive spine."

McGee wondered what an outsider would think if they saw their usual interactions.

Ziva seemed to give up her anger in its pointlessness. She sighed, bending down to pick up a handful of sheets (Tony had made them go airborne when he'd pulled on her and caused a mass dislocation of air).

Naturally, Tony's gaze immediately and sharply focused, possibly in tunnel vision, on the exposed body part. McGee wondered if he oughtn't to find shelter. DiNozzo was seriously pushing his luck with Ziva, ever since they'd come down. Tim hoped not to discover why.

Ziva noticed it too. Her lips curled up when she realized that her partner's concentration didn't waver from the same thing, even as she stood up again. Throughout all of this, McGee was just a bewildered and vaguely disturbed bystander, and he tried – as much as he could – not to look at the two of them.

She shook her ponytail-bound hair free, and, with a shock, McGee (who hadn't really avoided looking at the two of them) noted that she knew exactly what she was doing. She was very aware that she was leaving him in a frozen trance.

And, for all of that, Tony couldn't resist the opportunity when she passed him – a lot closer than platonically advisable, McGee noticed – and, snapping out of it, his hand brushed her bottom lightly, teasingly. He still had, however, some semblance of a not-so-healthy self-preservation syndrome, so, as soon as he'd made the incredibly stupid decision, he shrunk to the opposite direction, back turned to her, as quickly as he could.

Tim had to admit, when he wanted to, Tony could appear very innocent.

McGee knew Ziva would murder him for that. She'd give him a beating until he was unrecognizable, and then kill him in the most painful way possible. Then she'd gut him and spread him for miles and miles somewhere so that no one knew what had happened to him, except the unfortunate witness Timothy McGee, who'd wisely keep his mouth shut. He'd understandably expect that.

He did not except her to pay him back in the same currency. So, logically, when she turned back to him and her hand landed on Tony's butt, McGee was just slightly shell-shocked.

Tony, grinning in half-relief, half-delight, sat back down in his desk. If it wasn't just Tim's imagination, then he could swear that Ziva's blank expression betrayed a similar smile as she sat down.

"Got anything from the other guy, DiNozzo?" Gibbs strolled into the bullpen, seeming to have chosen the moment and placing a cup of coffee on his desk before sitting down.

Ziva quietly explained to McGee how the interrogations had gone, casually ignoring what had just happened, while Tony shook his head. "Nothing we didn't already know." He told their boss.

"Yeah, same thing." He looked around, and his eyebrows dipped in a would-be frown. "Where's the kid?" He asked. He threw Tony a glance at the question, even though he hadn't specified who was to answer.

Tony made a face. "With Abby. She squealed and begged and I can't say no to her." He was referring to the Goth, of course.

Gibbs nodded, looking unsurprised. "She'll be fine there. Meanwhile, we need to focus on the _case._" His tone wasn't quite scornful, but it was on its way. "Potter's gone down to the lab too, but I get a feeling he won't be sticking around."

"Meh. Maybe just for a few more minutes." The grinning features of the wizard in question peeked from the outside of their bullpen.

Tony almost jumped. "I do _not _need another Gibbs around." He whined, low and slightly fearfully. A ball of paper connected with his head. "Thank you, Boss!" He offered the underlying apology.

Harry grinned – he did that a lot. "Right, so – you've all been cordially invited to have dinner at: The Burrow." He said the name as if it were a great title. "As a matter of fact, I'm under the threat of death should I fail to bring you all around at seven o'clock sharp."

Silence met his announcement. "I am sorry," Ziva began. "maybe it is my English, but- isn't a 'burrow' a hole in the ground for rabbits to live in?"

Tony couldn't help it – he snickered. "No, it's not your English, Ziva." He assured her, calming down. "I'd like an answer to Ziva's question too, though."

"The Burrow is where my parents-in-law live in." He cheerfully said, smoothing out non-existant wrinkles on his shirt (hey, normal clothing) and not really erasing any doubts.

"I need to deliver Mary to her family members – we already have her statement." Tony's voice was regretful to the trained ear.

"No, you don't." Harry replied. "I've spoken to the aunt and uncle that have custody of her-"

"Excuse me?" Gibbs demanded, realizing what he'd said. "We're the ones speaking to the family members-"

Harry did something both brave and incredibly stupid – he interrupted Gibbs. "Unless you wanted to tell them about their niece being a witch, I think I did good." Gibbs' stillness and usual stare were good enough as an answer for the wizard. "So, as I was saying, I spoke to them, and they seemed rather needy of some time to process it all. So, I, as the helpful individual I am, I offered them Agent DiNozzo's babysitting services for the night, and they seemed eager to take me up on it." He gave them all a charming smile.

Tony didn't seem as upset as he was confused. "And they just agreed with that?" He questioned, surprised.

"I told you," He repeated. "some family members have a hard time dealing with these things." His empty look faltered at that, and he suddenly seemed a lot younger and a lot more vulnerable.

Everyone looked eager to move on. "Then where do you suppose I leave her?" He inquired, mildly annoyed. McGee wondered why all of them were fighting his invitation so hard. Then he guessed it was because none of them liked orders that didn't come from Gibbs and Gibbs only.

Harry's smile returned. "I don't suppose you to leave her. You're to bring her along."

"I- can't think of anything to say to that." He said, incredulous and speechlessly. Harry's grin broadened.

"So, I can count on you all being ready in-" He glanced at his watch. "fifteen? Great!" He exclaimed at their apparently non-shown agreement. "I'll see you in the garage then." And he vanished.

Three heads instinctively turned to Gibbs. "Have you finished your reports?" He asked, his voice annoyed and dipped in warning.

Three shakes of head were his answer. "Well, then what are you waiting for? You have fifteen minutes to take care of it. And you need to use your imagination not to mention Potter. So I'd hurry along, if I were you."

Exchanging looks, they did what they were told, stealing occasional glances at Gibbs' expressionless features. McGee thought that Gibbs had agreed to this because he wanted to see more of a magical household, which made him feel better at his own curiosity.

And if Gibbs was curious, then DiNozzo would be jumping on his tip-toes.

"Did you hear? Did you hear?" Abby bounced into the bullpen ten minutes later, Mary trailing behind, face locked in a permanently amused grin. At least she was feeling better. "We're having dinner at a wizard's house!"

"You're coming too, Abby?" McGee asked in surprise. She gave him a look.

Stupid question. Of course she was coming. She was _Abby_.

Mary made her way to Tony as soon as her eyes landed on him. McGee was actually beginning to get impressed with the bond the senior agent had formed with the little girl. And it was as if his whole demeanor changed as soon as she stepped into his arms. He softened, put on a real, warm smile and was otherwise sweeter. Like the way McGee had caught him being with Ziva several times.

Abby was distracted by that display and immediately squealed in delight. "_Oh_, you guys are just adorable." She threw her arms around the two of them and Tony fumbled to hold the three of them right way up as Mary giggled.

Ziva's expression told McGee that she agreed with the Goth.

Abby beamed, pulling back. "Harry is very nice. He went downstairs to ask if I wanted to come, and then he played with Mary for half-an-hour."

And suddenly everyone could see McGee bristling slightly. "He's married, you know." He commented in a would-be casual tone – had he been able to pull it off.

Abby rolled her eyes, but then she seemed to soften, hugging McGee this time. "Don't worry, Timmy, I know. He's nice, but he's not _that _nice."

Tony cleared his throat, leaning back with a broad smirk on his face, looking every bit ready to make a stupid comment. Mary squealed in laughter as she fell back onto his chest. That made his expression turn into a grin, and his attention was momentarily diverted from the younger agent. McGee appreciated that.

"Abs," Gibbs was frowning. "I don't like this." He glanced at Mary.

He was worried about the 'two' little girls. Ziva stiffened at Gibbs' tone, and Tony glanced at her. She was remembering the last time they'd all been together with wizards, and he knew it too.

Somehow, he managed to convey, silently, that she shouldn't be worried. He – for some crazy reason – trusted the guy, and that showed in his reassuring gaze. That was enough for her, and she relaxed.

"It will be fine, Gibbs." She decided to speak up, stealing one last look at Tony. "I am convinced we can trust him."

Gibbs didn't look very pleased regarding the subject – in fact, he managed to half-glare at his female agent – but he quieted. Abby looked happy about that, and she clapped excitedly.

"Good! We're all set, then." She glanced at her watch. "We should actually get going…"

"Well, not without me, I hope." Ducky was suddenly there with them, coat draped over his arm and Palmer in his wake. "That Mr. Potter is quite the charming fellow. I did miss some British company." He seemed to have forgotten any bad blood he'd previously had regarding Harry.

"Is anyone _not _going?" Gibbs asked, raised eyebrows flickering among the party gathered there.

"I don't believe so, no, Jethro." Jenny called. She was standing in the stairwell, watching the scene, but when their attentions turned to her, she straightened and descended the rest of the stairs lightly.

She looked gorgeous. Ziva would take a wild guess and imagine she'd gotten an earlier warning of this meal. She was wearing a simple, summer, Sunday-dinner-like dress that reached just above her knees. Her hair was done and she was carrying a white purse that matched the outfit. It was not the kind of attire she'd wear to work.

Ziva harrumphed lightly and silently, as Abby had no such qualms and whined loudly enough to annoy even Gibbs. "No, that's _not _okay. Now _I _have to find something nice to wear."

Their boss rubbed his forehead, his head snapping back down after the _slight _staring he'd done in the director's direction. "DiNozzo, remind me – women, dress code, important?"

"_Very _important, Boss." He stressed. Ziva threw a pencil at him, which he barely dodged. Mary giggled.

"You should know that, Jethro." Ducky called, amused. "Weren't you married several times?"

"Stress the verb tense there, Duck. It means I _didn't _spend enough time worrying about it."

Jenny's lips twitched.

"Oh, but I wouldn't worry about it, though." Harry appeared, again, out of a sudden, again.

"Don't you ever announce you're coming?" Gibbs snapped, irritated. Harry flashed him a grin.

"Well, _Boss_, now you know what _we_ feel." Abby announced seriously. Then she grinned, hugging Gibbs and then walking over to Harry to repeat the motion. McGee looked vaguely annoyed.

Harry smiled around at them all. "So, you're all here. I came because you were taking too long." He explained, not looking anything but happy as ever. "Don't worry about your dresses, ladies. My mother-in-law won't really care much about it, but more about how thin you are underneath. Well, actually, that applies to everyone."

No one said a thing to that, because no one had any idea of what to say.

He clapped – he looked way too excited. "Well, come along, children. Off we go!" And he turned, walking briskly in the direction of the elevator.

McGee's look of disbelief and Gibbs' eye-roll were short-lived, since they had to hurry to grab everything.

Mary looked apprehensive as she tugged on the senior agent's jacket, when he bent down in order to grab his stuff. "Am I going with you?" She asked quietly.

Tony didn't give her a verbal answer; instead, after his backpack was poised properly on his back, he picked her up and placed her over his shoulder like a lamb. She squealed, grabbing his neck and giggling.

Ziva slipped inside the metal doors last, a grin on her face.


	13. Pre-dinner Talks and Pullings Apart

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

The moment Ziva's foot stepped inside the strange-looking house, she honestly believed that _that _step was the weirdest experience of her entire life.

And to be able to say such a thing, after the few days she'd just had, was, in her humble opinion, _impressive_.

There was too much to process, in too little time. Noises, colors and things her brain refused to process as real. So she stood in a daze, absorbing it all for what she estimated were several minutes.

First of all, there was the turquoise-haired kid yelling "_Victoire_! Give it _back_!" Then, there was the fact that, as he ran right in front of her - nearly sending Tony toppling to the ground - his hair turned deep blue, right in front of their eyes.

Then she thought she glimpsed people – mostly red-hairs – outside, flying around in actual brooms - one of them yelled for Harry and he'd taken off, waving someone in the kitchen over to them. Then there was the mirror in the hallway, yelling at Gibbs about his uneven, Marine haircut. The clock that showed no time at all was the least weird, and by then, she'd gotten used to the robes everyone was wearing (which didn't speak in favor of her sanity).

The food was cooking itself as a plump, motherly, cheery-looking lady waved her wand and plates flew out the window toward a table. Ziva realized she'd been the one Harry had called when she walked toward them with a happy smile. And Ziva could've taken a step back, she was so startled.

And lastly, the flying pan that nearly hit her in the face. "Oh, sorry, dear." The woman cried, setting the wand in her pocket straight.

She crossed the rest of the distance toward them, maneuvering around the confusion with the skill of an expert in the art of being a mother and grandmother to her share of children. She dodged the laughing little girl running away from the now deep red-haired boy, with a distracted, but strict "Victoire! Play nice, and give Teddy his toy back!", and Ziva's attention snapped into focus again.

(She also noticed that the 'toy' was a half-bird, half-horse stuffed animal that was trying to wriggle free from 'Victoire'.)

"I'm sorry about that." She told her, gesturing to the object, now broken on the floor. She gave her such a motherly smile, Ziva couldn't help but to give one back.

Then she waved her wand, muttering something, and the cooking utensil mended itself and flew back toward the kitchen.

Ziva didn't realize she was staring until the red-haired woman spoke again. "I'm Molly Weasley, it's very nice to meet you." She shook Ziva's hand, and moved to repeat the gesture with everyone else. They dazedly introduced themselves, and Mary slid slowly from Tony's arms, wide eyes jumping about the room.

For once, even Abby was speechless.

The ride there – well, Ziva couldn't say it was the most pleasant one. Harry had ridden with Gibbs, because he'd clearly been approving of his car. The rest of his team had followed, driving to a particularly unpleasant part of town. Gibbs had warily stepped out of the car, and, though his team mimicked him, Ziva saw Tony's hand drop to his holster, nervously keeping Mary behind him and close.

Harry had then proceeded to make all the cars disappear, which caused Tony to yelp. The wizard had quickly explained that it was a glamour – he'd said that, if they wanted their cars still there when they returned, that was the best way. Then he'd presented them with an empty, ruined soda can he'd picked up from the ground.

He'd ordered them to touch it, and, two minutes later, they'd been outside the hunched, old-looking, stone house he called 'The Burrow'. McGee had dry-heaved and Abby had landed butt-first on the grass, but that was nothing compared to how Palmer had dropped to the ground and stayed there long enough for Ducky to go check whether the young man was conscious. Tony had efficiently placed Mary on the ground before stumbling straight onto his nauseated partner – and Ziva wasn't sure of how much of an _accident _that had been. And Gibbs had staggered slightly, which made it all very impressive.

And now there they were, watching 'Teddy' snatch the animal from Victoire's grasp while sticking his tongue at her. "Teddy Lupin, put that tongue back in your mouth before I cut it off." Molly said tiredly – she didn't look back at him.

Did all members of this family have Gibbs-esque abilities? Most of them were even red-hairs.

"Well, come this way, please." She lead them to a back-yard – a very impressive one. It seemed as though the owners of the house had a lot of land in their possession. "We're mostly out here."

The people riding on brooms – and throwing what it appeared to be an apple at each other – were now clearly visible. Gibbs' eyes didn't waver from them, and Tony looked positively fascinated. Mary was still nervously attached to his hand, but her eyes were stealing would-be surreptitious glances at the children that had by now left the house after them.

"Christ." Ducky muttered. Palmer was stumbling over everything in his way, completely unable to look down, even after the tenth time he nearly went tumbling to the ground. Abby kept helping him up, randomly eliciting squeals in her excitement. McGee was looking like his control over himself was feeble too – but he seemed more scared than anything.

"I'm so glad you could make it." She told them warmly, oblivious to their awe. Ziva saw Jenny stepping on Gibbs' toes to keep his oncoming comment at her sentence quiet. "Hermione told me how dreadful what happened to you was." She patted Ziva's shoulder sympathetically. "I thought you ought to be on friendlier terms with wizards and witches in general if you're going to be working closely with them, so I took it upon myself to invite you all for dinner."

Ziva translated the annoyed look on Gibbs' face as a hearted speech against political dinners.

Jenny seemed to name herself the appointed speaker for them. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Weasley." And, just like that, Jenny was in charge of the aspect of the meeting that bothered her best team leader.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva saw that they had been noticed. Ginny was beckoning them closer with a smile, her pregnant form sitting next to Hermione, who gave them a warm smile in acknowledgement. They were at an enormous table – she imagined that it wasn't just because of them; she counted at least twenty people since she'd arrived – so that even though the two weren't the only ones sitting, they were perfectly private.

Since they were the only people they recognized so far, they left Jenny with the pleasantries and made their way to the two women. "It's nice to see you again." Hermione hugged them all as if they were close friends. Ziva was speechlessly overwhelmed by the last few minutes. The whole thing had made more of an impact on her than the entire week, so her lips were unable to produce any words, and she resorted to nodding.

Ginny waved to the empty chairs around them, and the NCIS team took them.

She was about to say something when an uproar came from the other end of the table – mostly men – because of, she realized, one of the broom riders taking a dive so close to the ground his nose must've brushed some grass. Then he pulled back up at a ridiculous speed, absolutely safe, and shot Ginny a cat-like, smug grin. She smiled back, and Ziva saw with a shock that it was Harry.

Abby was the first of them brave enough to speak. "Isn't that… dangerous?" She asked dubiously, excitement temporarily tampered with.

Hermione made an irritated noise in the back of her throat, nodding vigorously. Ginny's head shake seemed small in comparison. "Yes, _extremely _so. But they are _boys_,and so they _have _to play it."

"Mom and, well, obviously, Hermione would say so." Ginny told them, smirking. "I, on the other hand, _really _wish I could be up there." She morosely rubbed her belly. "This kid better be adorable, and he better play Quidditch well in my place, because I am putting a lot of effort into bringing him into the world."

Hermione rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in an annoyed manner. "I stand corrected – boys and Ginny."

"And Delmeza, and Chang – and you know how much I like bringing _her _up – and-"

"Yes, Ginny, I understand. Boys and women with death wishes, maybe." Hermione leaned back on her chair tiredly. Ginny scrunched her nose up at her.

"If it's dangerous, why do you say you want your kid to play it?" Gibbs, smart man, put the name Ginny had mentioned to the sport the men above them were playing, leaning back on his chair and reduced to making easy conversation for the moment.

"It's not dangerousif you're good." She retorted back. "And we're all – with punctual exceptions -" Hermione rolled her eyes. "good."

"Really?" Ducky asked, giving them both a charming smile as he began to get engrossed in the conversation.

"Yes." Ginny beamed back, eyes glazing in remembrance. "I used to play for one of the best teams out there." She said. "The Hollyhead Harpies. Then I got pregnant, so I had to quit." She made a face. "Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely overjoyed about being a mother," The sunlit smile she threw at her husband, playing ten feet above them, allowed Ziva to believe it. "but I do wonder if, after this little guy" She patted her belly. "is able to take care of himself, I won't want to go back."

Hermione made a little noise of protest, but the fact that she remained silent meant that this conversation had been discussed before.

"Sounds like a very interesting career choice." Ducky consoled her, patting her shoulder reassuringly. Even though she'd just met him, Ginny didn't seem bothered by it.

"It was." She answered back with a sigh. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You don't agree." Jimmy stated. Hermione gave a nod, and her expression told them a rant was about to begin.

Ginny was prone to cutting it off before it started. "Yes, Hermione hates the sport from watching her husband and best friend end up in the Hospital Wing one too many times, we all know the drill." She drawled, smirking as an added effect.

Hermione glared at her with a huff, but she leaned back silently.

"What're the rules, exactly?" McGee seemed finally recomposed, and now he looked curious.

"Oh, they're very hard to explain." Ginny said enthusiastically, ready to begin with the longest way to do so. So, this time, Hermione cut _her_ off.

"Yes, Ginny loves the sport from ending up herself in the Hospital Wing one too many times, we all know the drill." She stated, in a mock-imitation of her friend's voice. Tony chuckled.

"You always spoil my fun."

Mary scrambled down from Tony's lap, and that caught Ginny's attention. "Hey there, sweetie." She smiled warmly, contorting to be able to look at her. "Why don't you go play with Vic and Teddy over there?" She pointed toward an open spot a few feet from where they were, where Teddy and Victoire were sharing their knowledge on flying with tiny brooms that hovered under a foot from the ground.

Mary eagerly took off as Tony watched her anxiously. Even Ziva couldn't help to bite her lip in order to contest the suggestion.

"Don't worry." Hermione soothed. "If that thing was dangerous, I wouldn't let the children play with it."

"She certainly wouldn't…" Ginny mumbled, sparing her a half-glare. "She locked away the notice-me-not Bludger that Harry got for games here." She pointed up to the sky where her husband did a three-hundred-and-sixty degree spin.

"Does the name _itself_ tell you nothing?" She snapped. "A Bludger you don't _notice_."

"It was meant to ward off Muggles!" Ginny exclaimed in protest.

"Yes, and, in the meantime, make sure the wizards were paraplegic. I should know – you did ask _me _to make the charm. Which I had no idea what it was for, by the way." She added with a glare to Ginny, and as an explanation to the Muggles.

"It made it more fun." Ginny offered her last argument.

Ziva decided not to ask what a 'Bludger' was.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She absent-mindedly took a sip from her cup, and then her eyes widened as they landed on the newcomers. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Would you like something to drink?"

"Do you have coffee?" Tony joked, gesturing at his boss. Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head. "Shutting up, Boss!"

"We're good." Gibbs told her. They'd eaten very shortly before, and they were actually glad it was taking longer for dinner to be done.

Ginny grinned at the jabs, visibly warming to the lot of them. "Sorry." She mock-apologized. "Mum absolutely refuses to have coffee near dad after lunch."

"Well, that's not exactly true." A man announced behind them, scowling slightly at Ginny. She just smirked back. "She actually lets me take it if I stop tinkering with the things in the garage for the afternoon." He shrugged, as if to say 'what can I do?', and extended a hand to Gibbs, who was closest. "Arthur Weasley. You've met my son, my son-in-law, my daughter, my daughter-in-law and my wife. Who told me you'd arrived." Ziva had lost count of the amount of relatives long ago.

He was a red-hair – besides Harry and Hermione, Ziva was beginning to wonder who wasn't in this family – and wore glasses at the tip of his nose, which he adjusted from time to time. He looked a lot like his children, but his hair was already heavily laced with grey. He was the picture of the doting grandfather, and Ziva, for some reason, immediately took a liking to him.

Gibbs shook his hand, and he moved on to the rest of them. Finally, he dropped to a chair next to Ginny, taking off his glasses and sighing a little. "I take it the conversation didn't go so well." His daughter assumed, and he made a face.

"The problem isn't even Kingsley – no, he's perfectly ready to move on, but some at the Improper Use of Magic Office are determined to blame the black-out on someone. Winchester's looking pretty good, and if we don't stop it, they _will _crucify him." His face betrayed serious annoyance.

"Harry told him that he won't let that happen." Ginny assured him. "And you know Golden Boy – no one's gonna say no to him."

Arthur cracked a smile before remembering they weren't alone. "The blind moment that allowed you to slip through the cracks of the system." He explained. "A lot of happenings nearly became incidents because of it – and, since it was world-wide, the damage was done. I have no idea how, but somehow the blame was assigned to us, and now we're very eager to find a scapegoat." Maybe the word 'we' didn't fit in there very well.

"Politics." Gibbs said immediately, in unison with Arthur. The latter grinned at the other.

"Indeed." And the two of them were, suddenly and surprisingly, bonding over their bosses' red-tape annoyance (though Gibbs' tone was fonder than it was angry) and Muggle boats' construction, away in their own world. Arthur found the latter subject particularly fascinating.

"Okay, so that's that." Ginny said, eyes trained on the two. Then she turned to the rest of them with another smile. "Be prepared for madness worthy of Luna."

"Ginny!" Hermione hit her arm – but it was weak, and Hermione was smiling. It wasn't mockery, though. It was more of a fond teasing. "You're as crazy for Quidditch as she is about…" She trailed off.

"Everything?" Ginny suggested, grinning. "Anyway, you're right. So, I'm just going to explain the rules now." She prompted, already leaning forward.

"I think I have noted some things." Ziva said unexpectedly. She had been silently watching the game and listening to the talk going on around her, and now her eyes were drawn back to her surroundings. "There are several positions, yes? Some throw the apple back and forth, trying to send it through some kind of goal behind another player, who is playing as goal-keeper. They seem too wary, so I would say there is usually some kind of threat they need to watch for during an actual game.

"Harry seems more aware of his surroundings than the others, except perhaps the man with the burns. Perhaps they have some different position in an actual game, which they do not have here." She finished, drumming her fingers on the table absent-mindedly, her eyes already returning to the flashing-by alien-like objects.

"_Impressive_!" Her eyes snapped to Ginny, who was beaming in approval. "Yes, that's very close. The man with burns is my brother, Charlie, though." Her expression flickered to a smirk briefly. "He and Harry are usually Seekers, and they are supposed to find this really fast tiny ball. Then there are the Chasers, who are supposed to throw the Quaffle – which is being represented by an apple – through the hoops guarded by a Keeper. Lastly, the Beaters, like my brother George" She pointed to another red-hair, grinning in mid-air. "bat the Bludger against the other team. It's a really heavy ball, hell-bent on throwing everyone out of their brooms." Ziva didn't ask why they wanted to make that unnoticeable.

"So… You _like _this game?" Tony questioned, apparently not quite able to believe it.

Abby swatted his arm, eyes gleaming. "Of course they do! It sounds _and _looks _awesome_!" Ginny smiled broadly at her, and Ziva supposed the two would be close friends before the evening was over.

"You are forbidden to ever, ever try it, Abs." Gibbs said flatly, somehow having listened through his own conversation. Abby pouted, but Gibbs was no longer paying attention, so her attempt al mellowing him out failed.

"See, Hermione?" Ginny pointedly indicated the Goth, ignoring Gibbs' remark in favour of her own devices. "_Someone _understands why I'm as crazy as Luna."

"Were you just talking about me, Ginny?" An airy voice attracted Ziva's attention.

The character that caught her eye had to be the most peculiar girl she'd ever seen, and she'd seen the three trespassers in robes. She was blond, young and pretty, blue eyes hardly focusing on anything at all. So far, that wasn't unusual.

Then she noticed the necklace, the earrings, the dress and the shoes.

"Yes, actually, Luna." Ginny told her brightly. "Take a seat." Ducky had a vacated one to his left, so that was the one she took. He held it back for her like a proper gentleman, and she beamed at him before sitting down.

"Where's Rolf?" Hermione asked, smiling in greeting too.

"He went to talk with the children." She vaguely gestured in the direction Mary had gone. Ziva had kept half-an-eye on her, and she wasn't surprised to see that the three kids were further from them than they had been. They'd wandered off, and now there was a good-looking, brown-haired man sitting cross-legged with them.

"How was your trip?" Ginny asked, contentedly and comfortably leaning back into her chair. The plastic object molded to accommodate her, and Ziva found herself staring a little. "Was Arizona as nice as it's made out to be?" Ziva couldn't quite put her finger on what Ginny's voice sounded like.

"Very. But I found nothing." She answered with a disappointed shrug. "I've told daddy, and he says he understands."

"I bet he does." Now she could safely assume that Ginny's voice was annoyed.

"Ginny." Hermione warned softly. There was a story there, but no one seemed about to reveal it. Ginny cleared her throat, forcing an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"It's alright." Luna said softly. "Daddy did not behave correctly at all."

Then, Ziva blinked, and the mood was right back to cheerful and party-like. "So, no Snorcakes, then?" Ginny cracked a teasing smile.

Luna shook her head. "Snorkack. But you knew that." She grinned. "And no."

"Now, I _have _heard that name before." Ducky announced, leaning forward in curiosity.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Luna, these are Muggle NCIS workers. They're the ones who caught Harry." Ginny confided. Then she turned to the Muggles themselves, including Gibbs who'd paused his talk with Arthur to listen. "And this is Luna Lovegood, who is a good friend from harder times."

Luna nodded. They introduced themselves, and she smiled at all of them with an absent smile.

"And I am also sure I've heard the name Lovegood before, as well." Ducky continued, smiling at Luna as if his comment hadn't been interrupted. "I do believe it was a young with quite an unusual name, which is why I recall it. Xenophilius, I believe?"

Pretty soon it became clear that Ducky had met Luna's father in one of the man's extensive travelling, and he'd made quite the impression. Without delay, Luna and the older man were enthusiastically exchanging stories like only the two of them could, and a cup of tea had appeared in front of him out of nowhere. Well, Ziva corrected herself, not out of nowhere, but rather unexpectedly (now that she was aware that magic existed, she needed to be careful with how she phrased things). Molly had brought it, as if she knew what he'd want.

Ziva felt like they were losing their party one by one, and she was shockingly light about it.

"Okay!" Ginny clapped, and Ziva was reminded of Harry in the gesture – she must have had some internal trauma to deal with too. And since when was the Israeli a psychologist? "Now that the responsible adults are out of the picture, let us talk, shall we?" She grinned with too much light in her eyes for Ziva to be entirely comfortable.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Normally, I'd join the 'responsible adults'." She announced, sipping again an unidentified substance. "But I'm not sure that I won't have to control Ginny, so I'm staying."

Ginny made a face. "I don't need to be controlled. Just 'heavily observed'."

"At least that was what the teachers said."

"In my defense, the teachers were in league with the Death Eaters."

McGee was slumping in his seat, as if preparing himself for a long night. Palmer sat erect at the edge of his chair, slurping anything the wizards and witches said, and Abby was visibly bouncing.

Ziva glanced at Tony and they both grinned.


	14. Unusual Relatives and Repeat Agreements

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

After an interrogation about working in a Muggle federal agency, how that difficulted personal relationships, and finally and most embarrassingly, men (at which point McGee had pointedly excused himself, standing up with Palmer and dragging an unwilling Tony along) they found themselves sitting at the table with everyone there – even people they hadn't been introduced to.

The Quidditch players had dropped to the ground at the first sight of food – and, even for twenty people, there was quite _a lot _of that –and ran to the tables like a wolf smelling pray. After Molly – there were too many Mrs. Weasleys to call her that – had threatened bodily harm, brandishing her wand, to anyone who didn't wash their hands, they'd hurried to enter the house, and the velocity with which they came back out made Ziva wonder if there was some sort of magical, faster system for washing up. Or if they just hadn't bothered to do it.

As soon as they'd sat down, however, the NCIS' focus had been diverted: they had quickly noticed Fleur Delacour. Even pregnant, she immediately caught the attention of anyone within fifty feet. And suddenly, all the men (including, to Ziva's mild shudder, Gibbs and Ducky) had been fascinated with her side of the yard.

Jenny wasn't amused, and she demonstrated that by leaving a perfectly drawn half-moon of fingernail marks on Gibbs' hand. Ziva made Tony exhale a very loud and strangled breath with an elbow to his ribs, and Abby somehow found something to make a suspicious, though mild, burn on McGee's wrist.

Ducky chuckled, breaking his concentration on the young woman, and, with rather flaming cheeks, pointedly avoided looking in her direction again. "Well, I'd say it _is _your own fault for finding infatuation on dangerous women."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but Ziva could see his neck burning. McGee – fully red – sputtered incoherently and made Abby pat his back reassuringly as he shook his hand vigorously against the new mark.

Tony, however, had the nerve to grin unabashedly, so Ziva decided to stomp on his foot as hard as she could. Jenny remained impassive, and anyone who might have heard the exchange around them just smiled in understanding sympathy (mostly the males) and brushed it off. Palmer was still staring, however, and no one seemed about to shake him out of it.

But no one made to deny the old man's words.

"Don't worry." Hermione said cheerfully, awfully amused at the display. "Fleur tends to have that effect on people – well, men, actually. Her grandmother was a _Veela_."

"_Veela_?" If Ziva hadn't known Gibbs better, she'd say he was desperate to change the conversation theme.

"Yes. They're quite… persuasive, in attracting male attention." Hermione snorted in irritated derision. "Ron almost choked on his own voice when he first met her."

"I did _not_!" The man on question yelped from next to his wife. "I was just…Imagining her as a sister!"

"That" Ginny drawled, disbelief oozing form her expression. "has got to be the _worst _excuse _ever_."

"Hey, Harry wasn't much better!"

"Oh, I can deny that. I was present, and I vividly recall him laughing at your drooling face."

"Thank you, Hermione. You probably saved the couch from having to handle me tonight."

"Then again, I'm not exactly sure who was worse when you met the actual _Veelas_."

"I withdraw my words."

"Good, because the couch isn't safe from a thing."

Well, at least the attention was off of them.

Tony leaned over to whisper in Ziva's ear, after popping a small piece of bread in his mouth. "And they're married?" He asked jokingly.

"They remind me of two idiots I work with." Gibbs said mildly. Then he looked away, drinking something Ziva didn't recognize and acting as though he hadn't said a thing. His words, however, effectively stopped their exchange, and Ziva was left wondering if he – somehow – knew something.

It _was _Gibbs. That fact alone worried her.

"Well, they _do_, actually." Ducky was, however, not exactly looking in Tony's direction. His eyes were rather visibly aimed at Jenny and his long-time friend. Gibbs ignored him, and Jenny faked hearing loss.

Ducky wisely dropped it.

"So, do you have dinners with these many people every day?" Jenny prompted, attempting to engage in easy-going conversation with a smile.

"No." Hermione shook her head. "Usually we have six people less. Besides you, of course." Ziva did a head count, and she calculated that there were, besides themselves, about twenty-two people there. Three of which were visibly pregnant. Six people must've made a lot of difference, indeed. "Today, a few old friends came. You've met Luna." And how.

"Have you now?" A cheerful voice said from behind them. Ziva turned, and instinctively did a double take, eyes zeroing in on the lack of ear that marked the man speaking to them.

He was handsome – no doubt about that – and he carried himself with the flair of someone who'd make a pact with the devil just for the sake of a couple of more laughs. There was a distinctive Tony-like air about him, which would mean she needed to hide from him any food or drinks that she would possibly still want.

He smoothly slid a chair between Ziva and Abby, and plopped down on it, happily throwing each of his arms over their shoulders. "Well, hello ladies. I'm George!" His smile reminded Ziva of Tony's again. Without most of the appeal, however (for some reason).

Ziva's hand pulled his arm forward and over her head, and he was suddenly pressed face-first against the table. Abby picked the other arm lightly from her own shoulder and dropped it. Ziva let go of him quickly, though (she was aware that she was a guest in his parents' home, and physical injuries were probably considered rude).

"Sorry. I believe I do not know my own strength." She said as apologetically as she felt (literally), watching him trying to right himself with a groan. "Hello. I am Ziva David."

"And I" Another voice, female, said with even more glee. "am Angelina. And _you_" She gave Ziva a hug, dropping down on another chair. "are my new best friend."

The dark-skinned girl harshly rubbed George's shoulder (the one Ziva had made sure to maul), and his groaning increased as he stood up. "He likes to hit on every woman he sees. Don't take it personally." She added to Tony, who blinked in faked confusion and mild, real, panic.

"Why would I take it personally?" He asked, rubbing his neck. Maybe he shouldn't have done that, if he wanted his words to mean something.

Angelina raised her eyebrows slowly. Then she shook her head with a small smirk. Was every wizard and witch so meddlesome? And, while she was at it, why did all of them act as great friends the moment he saw them? "No reason. Anyway, don't take it personally." She told Ziva and Abby this time.

"I think _I _should take it personally." George whined, mock-glaring at Angelina. "My own _wife_ - which she should be very proud of being, since it's not a word I would _ever_ associate with my gorgeous self – is _against _me!"

"Maybe it's because you were hitting on women _other _than your wife." She shrugged, making a helpless face. "Honestly, I don't know. It's just a theory. It's most likely because of some deep-buried insecurities that I have, though." She patted his cheek with a little more force than strictly necessary.

He gave her a grin, and he seemed under the impression that that was all he needed to melt her. To Ziva's surprise, it actually was. Then she remembered how that worked for her with Tony too, and she looked away.

George pecked Angelina on the lips, and she was perfectly happy again. "Either way – _nice _move." He grinned at Ziva, scratching the hole on the side of his head. She found herself staring slightly.

"How did you get that?" Gibbs asked suddenly, leaning forward – everyone from NCIS, used to short breaks for food, had already finished eating, so he pushed his plate aside as he spoke.

George looked surprised that he was asked that – so, either it was a known story, or no one was usually brave enough to actually ask about it. Then he grinned in absolute delight, and Ziva knew that anything that left his mouth from then on would be total bull-crap.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, that's a story. There were these women, you see-" He began – but it didn't last long. Angelina hit his hand, effectively shutting him up.

"It was an accident." She stated promptly, like a well-rehearsed line she was forced to say.

Gibbs dropped the interrogation.

"She never lets me tell the real story." He confided, opening his arms like he was gathering pity. "It's too embarrassing, in her opinion. See, she was involved, and-"

"If you want to shut him up," Gibbs interrupted, mildly twirling a spoon in his tea as he stared at it mistrustfully. "I've found that hitting the back of people's head works wonders." He looked up at Angelina briefly, before he settled himself to watch his under-caffeined beverage again.

George's expression morphed into outrage at that. "Oh, so _you_'re the one responsible for the new weapon in my sister's arsenal?!" Ginny smirked, crossing her arms and leaning back, content in keeping quiet in favor of watching them all argue because of her.

"George," Harry called, leaning over Ginny to give them a harassed grin. "Play nice, now. You're not the only one affected by that tragedy."

Ginny gave them all a demonstration, using her husband as her test subject.

"You're all an incredibly weird family." Tony announced in his usual brashness. Ziva swatted his leg under the table, and he winked at her suggestively in response. Ziva made sure there were nail marks too close to his special bits for comfort in retaliation. He didn't seem very bothered by it – at least not in a bad way. A sneaking suspicion – that might have had something to do with her locked memories or not – told her that Tony liked nails and teeth. Her ears were burning as she looked away.

"Thank you!" George performed a mock bow. "We do try."

Tony grinned – he'd finally found someone just as childish as he was. Ziva nervously scooted away from the instantly chattering pair.

"Should I be worried?" She wondered aloud to Ginny, who grimaced in response. She didn't like that answer.

"So," Someone sat down next to them. "I hear you're the Muggles that arrested my brother." He was grinning, which shook the foredoom that his appearance brought on. "I'm Bill, by the way." He shook hands with the whole NCIS troupe before leaning back and looking perfectly at ease.

He was tall, lean and muscular, with long hair and all the appearance of a smooth and charming man. The only thing that shook the image was the heavily scarred face. It looked as if a large animal had scratched him in a fit of rage. They were visibly claw marks, and even Ziva, who had seen much worse, found herself startled.

"Yes." Gibbs was the first to snap out of it. "My agents found them trespassing at a crime scene."

The guy's grin only broadened. "Right. I'll have to add that to their ignored offences."

Harry mock-scowled in his direction. "Next time, _you_ save the world legally. I had a headache! I couldn't think of any other way to do things with_out _breaking into a bank!" He protested.

"You broke into a bank?" McGee asked, half-amused, half-horrified.

"Only because I needed to destroy a priceless artifact hidden there."

"Right." Gibbs said dryly – even he'd gotten used to the young man by then. "Did that happen to the other one too?" For a moment, Ziva saw panic and confusion flare in Harry's eyes, and she imagined he was thinking of something else – but then, he seemed to understand, and his whole body relaxed slightly as he laughed.

"Nah. The Amortentia's already with the Ministry." He grinned, and Ziva couldn't help but notice that his voice was a little weaker than before.

There was a temporary lull in the air, and they all drank something in lack of anything to do. "So," Bill started up conversation again. "How did Harry force-bring you to England?"

"I did _not _'force-bring' them here!" He protested, elbows resting on the table. Then he grinned, as if he only needed his own will to tell the truth. "Portkey."

Ziva didn't ask what the word meant in favor of her eagerness in hearing Abby's next question and its sub-consequent answer. "We're in _England_?" She squealed, looking around in awe as if everything had suddenly changed.

"Oh, yeah." Harry said, as if he was suddenly remembering he should have told them that a little earlier. "Forgot to tell you that." His smile wasn't very apologetic.

The rest of the evening went surprisingly pleasantly. Eventually, they were introduced to everyone, and the conversation gradually became one around the entire length of the table. Everyone was very interested in the details of the latest adventure of the 'Golden Trio', though Ziva couldn't figure out why for the life of her.

After that, they dispersed, something Ziva figured was routine with a group that big. The Longbottoms took a liking to McGee, and the Creeveys happily struck up conversation on photography of dead bodies with Palmer ('It's all about the lighting. Their skin is clearer, so you can't just do the same thing you'd do with live people.'). Abby quickly fell in love with the Scamanders, and Arthur formed a trio with Gibbs and Ducky to exchange stories and knowledge of each world. Molly played the amicable host with Jenny, and Ziva could hear many 'lovelies' and 'thank yous' from their direction. Tony obviously joined the men – just about all of them - talking about Quidditch (they weren't allowed to play after sun-set, which made Ziva wonder if their mother controlled them in their homes too).

Which left Ziva with the rest of the women, something she wasn't very experienced with. She'd learned all their names by then – there was Fleur, Audrey, Angelina and, obviously, Hermione and Ginny. Being outnumbered five-to-one wasn't leaving her any less nervous either, and she found her fingers twitching apprehensively in her usual nervous habit.

"So," Hermione began with a smile, once they'd sat down on the grass, watching the three kids play a few meters away. "how are you finding the Wizarding World so far?"

Just after she spoke, Teddy's hair became longer and blonder, and his face morphed into that of Victoire's. Mockingly, he began walking around like a chicken, flapping his arms in a poor imitation of his friend. Mary shrieked with laughter and Victoire scowled, nose upturned, at him.

"Strange." She answered truthfully. Victoire jumped over Teddy and pinned him to the ground. Mary joined them, and, in unison, the two girls mercilessly tickled the boy into a mess of tearful and breathless giggles.

Hermione's smile turned into a grin. "Yes, I remember when McGonagall nearly gave my parents a heart attack. I couldn't sleep straight for a week. I'm a Muggleborn, like Mary." She explained to Ziva's confused look.

The word reminded her of the 'case' they were investigating. Her eyes focused on the afore-mentioned girl, gingerly petting the purring stuffed animal that Ziva had seen Victoire running around with earlier. "Why would someone hate a little girl like that?" She asked quietly, lips turning up as Mary took up Victoire's earlier quest of keeping the toy away from Teddy.

Hermione's sigh was as good as a verbal answer, but Audrey said the unvoiced words the action had transmitted. "Because there will always be people with overinflated egos – even if they're law runaways and smell like they haven't had a shower in months, they're still better than us." Ziva wrinkled her nose as the memory of the men they'd brought into interrogation assaulted her senses again.

"You are a Muggleborn too, then?" Ziva questioned, looking at Percy Weasley's wife – the man had joined Tony and his brothers, but it didn't appear as though it had been willing.

Audrey nodded, fidgeting to become more comfortable. "Yes – Percy helped me, when…" She trailed off, her eyes unfocusing and her hand lightly tracing her covered arm. She shook her head to return to the present. "Anyway, I have no doubt that everyone behind this will go down." Her face was serene, and Ziva deduced that it wasn't the first time that her family members had thrived through impossible situations.

"Of course they will." Ginny said cheerfully. "And then, Harry will let me go kick their disgusting, fat arses for having dared to threaten me."

Alarmed, Ziva snapped her head to the pregnant woman. "You have been threatened? When was that?"

Ginny shrugged uncomfortably, frowning at her unhappily. "Yesterday." She sighed when Ziva's glare ordered her to elaborate. "Harry received a letter, and, after he made a copy and did all sorts of unspeakable things to it, he was ready to use the original to track and do a repeat performance on the writer. I stopped him, though, and it was protected against that anyway." She assured the Israeli.

"Why have you or Harry not told us?" Ziva asked – this was not information they ought to be withholding, if they were to be working together.

"It was an empty threat!" She protested defensively, hands resting on her belly. "No one would dare to come near the wife of the _Boy-who-lived_." Ziva made a mental note to ask about the nickname later.

"Be that as it may," She said, her voice reproachful. Fleur, who had been keeping an attentive eye on the three kids, ready to intervene if anyone got hurt, glanced at Ziva at her tone. "You still should have told us. Forensics would be able to find things where magic cannot, given that the sender was likely more worried about the second than the first – if he even knew what the first was."

Ginny was about to reply with a usual rebellious instinct-driven retort when she paused, tilting her head in acknowledgement of the idea. "I… hadn't thought of that, actually." She admitted, apologetically grimacing at Ziva. "Sorry. I'll see that Harry makes sure it gets to you, avoiding any further contamination." She promised, and Ziva relaxed, satisfied with that arrangement.

"Okay!" Angelina said with forced bubbliness. "Now that that's settled, shall we talk about some actual, and more important, matters?" Her eyes gleamed with the same glint as her husband's, and Ziva figured that that wasn't a good thing.

Fleur and Ginny smirked, Hermione and Audrey rolled her eyes, and that confirmed it. The conversation turned to Tony's… attributes (he was the only one they could agree on talking about without becoming uncomfortable – Ziva didn't count, apparently) and the rest of the day was spent with the Israeli pretending not to hear a lot of things.

Every time something unexpected happened, someone wasted no time in explaining it to them. When a rusty old cauldron by the door exploded, Harry pointed to the bickering (again) of Victoire and Teddy, which a scowling Molly was already hurrying to break up, much to Mary's onlooker amusement. When a glowing purple ball suddenly appeared in mid-air, right over Ginny's head, and exploded, showering her with what appeared to be (and was probably not) glue and chicken feathers, she explained, between hexes in her innocent-looking brother's direction, that George owned a joke shop, which delighted Tony.

Those were two of the occasions out of the edge of Ziva's head, but she knew there had been many more. By the time they were ready to leave, even Gibbs was looking frazzled.

"We hope you come again soon!" Molly had beamed at them all with such a truthful expression, that, even though Ziva now held deep belief in the idea of refusing dinner invitations, she didn't even have the heart to form an actual thought regarding it.

They had nodded mutely and uncompromisingly, and Harry, sporting a knowing grin, had led them back to the alley.

He'd waved his wand and, sure enough, there were the cars, as spotless as how they'd left them. Without another word, Gibbs left for his, and Jenny, rolling her eyes, properly said her and his goodbyes and appreciation for the meal. There were only two reasons, actually, that made their boss stay parked there: first, they were all aware, he wouldn't leave without his team right in front of him, and second, he was also the ride for two of them.

Harry leaned against Tony's hood, observing them all, and looking for something Ziva ignored. "So... Intense experience?"

Tony just raised his eyebrows, and she had a feeling that was answer enough for the wizard. Mary was cocooned, fast asleep (Ziva wondered when that had happened) to his side, and he popped the back door of his car open to deposit her there. He took care in lying her down, she noticed – the cap came off, so that it wouldn't hurt her, and his jacket was covering her whole body by the time he gingerly closed the door.

Ziva rubbed her arms, though she didn't feel any cold at all. She was just bone tired. But she knew her day was far from over. She could count at least two more stops before she was able to rest in her near future.

"You could say that." Ducky said, crossing his arms against the lightly chilly air. He was leaning against Jimmy's vehicle, which had been his ride there.

Harry shrugged, but she could see through the apparent indifference that he knew how they were feeling. "I would have brought Hermione or Audrey, or even both, since they're actual Muggleborns _and _have the added bonus of being girls, and I imagine they'd give great advice as to how you can deal with it. If I were you, though – and I'm speaking from experience - I'd mull it over." Everyone gave him blank stares as a reward, and he puffed out a breath. "I'm just saying - you'll have to deal with it sooner or later, and every different person has a different way of dealing with things. Your brain - I'm assuming you all have one – interprets things in its own way. You have a better chance of understanding and processing it all when it's fresh and you're not trying to pretend it never happened."

"Very wise." Ducky complimented, but his tone was too monochordic for Ziva to understand what he meant with it.

Harry sighed warily, looking tired and no longer cheerful. "Look – I get it. I'm not among your impeccable mate list right now, and I suppose you won't be warming up to wizards any time soon-"

"Actually," Tony interrupted, casually crossing his arms and twirling his car keys in his finger. "I don't really have a problem with Mary." The implied meaning was quite clear.

Harry didn't seem fazed. He rolled his eyes. "And you'll beat up anyone who does, so maybe you're a little biased." Ziva could swear she saw Tony start at that, but by then – even if she'd never say it aloud – she was already agreeing with the wizard. "Speaking of which – what time should I be at the Navy Yard tomorrow?"

The unimpressed scowl on Tony's face was informative as to how much Harry's first comment had been appreciated. "Aren't you a magician? Guess."

Harry rolled his eyes – apparently attributing Tony's mood to lack of sleep. The young man _did_ spend a lot of his time with his young godson – he was probably used to it. "I'll be there at seven-thirty in the morning. And, by the way," He added, and Ziva thought that the way he was backing up was rather suspicious, as was the overly casual tone. He was running. "don't be too concerned if your suspects are gone by morning. Nor if anyone you work with is suddenly ignorant of their existence. I'll see you tomorrow!" And he swiftly turned and disappeared into thin air.

"He waited until Gibbs was gone to say that." McGee said immediately.

"You think, McGee?" Gibbs barked from a cracked window. He was impatiently glowering at them all and the place Harry had just disappeared in. "You wanna get in the cars, or are you planning to wait until morning?" Jenny rolled her eyes from the passenger's seat (when had she gotten there?) and everyone else scrambled to get the engines started.

Abby made a bee-line to Gibbs' car, and McGee scrambled to get into Palmer's back seat. He'd come with Tony, but since there was a little girl fully spread across the back of the car, and Ziva was already claiming shotgun on that one, he'd gotten the next best thing. Tony sighed and dropped into the driver's seat, popping in the seat belt. They were headed, he knew, to Gibbs', and he only prayed Abby was telling the man about that now (this way of carrying out the _let's-tell-Gibbs-that-we're-using-his-home_ part of the _we're-going-to-have-a-heartfelt-conversation_ plan – that was obviously Abby's doing - had seemed the safest, for some reason), because he'd be in the line of fire if they didn't.

It had been a long day, and the evening was far from over.


	15. Night-time Rendezvous and Overdue Talks

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"Did you decide to plan this behind my back?"

Gibbs was annoyed - now, how surprising. Tony and Ziva had been the last to arrive (for good reason) and they'd rang the doorbell to meet the receiving end of Gibbs' glare as the man opened the door.

Tony was carrying Mary in his arms – he couldn't just leave her sleeping in the car – and that must have been Gibbs' only incentive not to growl any louder.

"We brought the beer." Ziva stated off-handily, gesturing to the packs in her hands. Good reason, alright.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but he stepped back, leaving the door wide open for them to enter. Tony quickly found the couch to put the little girl in, satisfied that there was no one in the living room. He supposed everyone was in the basement - that, in combination with Gibbs' freshly dressed t-shirt and exercise pants, told him that their boss, obviously anointed the unwilling host for the past-two-a.m. 'meeting', had chosen to be a bad one.

Tony followed Ziva down the stairs, leaving every door in his trail open so that he could hear Mary clearly should she wake up. When he reached the lowest floor of Gibbs' house, he realized that the only ones in the group _not _looking uncomfortable were Ducky, Abby and himself.

Jenny was awkwardly trying not to stare in utter fascination at the wooden boat that took up most of the space (and failing, since the way her eyes were constantly sliding from it to the wall and back pretty much spoke for itself). Jimmy and McGee were nervous - they'd never been there before, as far as Tony knew, and if they had, the experience had clearly not relaxed them enough to stand in any way but stiffly.

That was funny to the senior agent, but before he could make the situation even worse, he heard Gibbs making use of the stairs to join them. Tony stepped aside, approaching his partner, who was leaning against a wall, arms crossed and gaze refusing to fall on a specific part of the room.

Tony remembered that her brother had died there, and the amusement died quickly.

Gibbs crossed his arms, a lonely spokes-person in the middle of the room. "Whose bright idea was this?" He glared at them all briefly before settling on Tony with a glower.

The senior agent held up his hands in surrender. "Not guilty this time."

"It was my idea, Gibbs!" Abby said cheerfully. Her narrowed eyes, however, warned her father-like figure that he ought to choose his next step carefully.

Gibbs closed his eyes, his face pinched and his nose inhaling very slowly. "Fine." He grumbled, snatching a piece of sandpaper and approaching the boat. He could never say no to Abby, and, since they weren't all being thrown out the door, his attitude was a monument to the fact that he was going to stand-by until he felt that it was appropriate for him to do so.

Tony watched as Jenny gravitated unconsciously and curiously toward a place in the room where she had a clear view of Gibbs' handiwork. He saw his boss steal an inconspicuous glance at that, and he either had a very vivid imagination, or Gibbs' lips had turned upwards as his eyebrows did the same. DiNozzo could even see his posture straightening – and he was vaguely and suspiciously uncomfortable with watching that. Even if he loved gossip and it loved him back, there was something more than a little disturbing in actually seeing either Gibbs or Jenny like that. Both of them together just made it worse.

Kids weren't supposed to watch mom and dad's secret interactions, after all.

"You wanna say what was it that you wanted, exactly, Abs?" Tony prompted, eager to keep his thoughts away from his bosses.

Abby tugged on her pigtails – she liked being the center of attention, usually (hell, it wasn't a secret that that was one of the reasons she'd fallen for McGee – he was sweet, adoring, and completely devoted to anyone he was with), but today stress was running too high for anyone to be comfortable in her position.

So her defensive protocol kicked into gear, and she crossed her arms, glaring at everyone. They all better know not to upset her even further. "What I _want_ is not to go home without having a proper conversation with all of you! It was not a normal week and I want to talk with people who understand that!" She pouted, lip quivering. "'Cause I know you'll help with it, because you're all very careful with sensitive-"

A dry clatter cut her off. Every head turned to Palmer, who was gingerly picking up a piece of carved wood (maybe a table or chair leg) from the floor and putting it back on the table. From where he'd probably knocked it off from. "Sorry." He mumbled, fixing his glasses and leaning against the same table, in about the same way he'd been before. Gibbs rolled his eyes, gaze returning to the boat.

"Anyway," Abby stomped her foot, reclaiming focus. "I don't wanna go home without _talking_. And I know that none of you are very big talkers, except maybe Tony and Ducky – not that I'm saying that Ducky and Tony talk too much, but you know, Tony always says this and that, and Ducky always has an interesting story; but it's not that Tony is always saying silly things, because, although he does that a lot, he also sometimes has important things to say – not that it's only sometimes-" She rambled, losing focus quickly.

"Abs…" Gibbs breathed tiredly, rubbing his forehead.

Her head snapped to him, already nodding. "Right. I just wanna… _talk_." And she fell silent, staring at each and every one of them expectantly.

And everyone else kept quiet too.

She huffed, and McGee tried to prevent any further escalation. "But… What do you exactly want to talk about, Abby?" He asked tentatively. "I mean, I understand that we should probably spend time discussing it, but… What exactly is there to say to _this_?"

The '_this_' incorporated so much it hurt Tony's head to think about it. The whole _week _could fit into that. And he just wanted to sleep.

Abby seemed to agree, because her shoulders slumped and she dropped lightly to the floor, sitting cross-legged with her hands on her cheeks and her elbows resting on the inside of her thighs.

Shrugging, Tony figured it was pointless to tire himself even further. He mimicked her, stretching as his butt hit the floor. Ziva rolled her eyes – but she seemed inclined to do the same, so he wasn't really surprised when she slid down the wall to join him, hands hugging her knees. McGee stared, and then, (peer pressure was impressive, even if the target was about twenty years off the mark for the correct age of its use) he sighed, crossing his arms over his legs as he sat down too.

Gibbs looked between the four of them. "You do realize the floor hasn't been cleaned in God-knows how long, don't you?" Tony's answer was to lean back against the wall, his back supporting him in the same way as Ziva's. Gibbs shrugged and sighed in a very _what-am-I-gonna-do-with-them_ fashion and turned back to the boat.

Abby was tensed as she spoke again. "I just… I don't want to go home. Not yet." That was probably about when Gibbs gave up the thought off chucking them all out. The groan his boss released was Tony's first clue to it.

The senior agent let his eyes wonder across the room. Jenny's gaze was still bright on Gibbs' newly working hands, and she was leaning over a beam of the boat, on its other side. Ducky was looking around the tiny space with his arms crossed, as if looking for any differences since the last time he'd been there. Palmer was still standing awkwardly next to the table, careful movements in an attempt to avoid any more accidents.

Tony realized that they were all positioned in a rather strange way – Gibbs was in the center, while each and every one of their positions were strewn facing him, in whatever tiny, unimpeded space they could find.

And so that was how they stayed for the next several hours. Their tight-knit group, gathered 'round at Gibbs' place, like the dysfunctional family they were. They had troubles, sure – Tony only had to glance at Jenny for his thoughts to be brought there – and they'd be dealt with appropriately and eventually. That night was hardly the moment for any of them to mention it – Jenny was one of their own, and anything suggesting otherwise was to be firmly ignored – at least for then.

They'd had a strange week, and, for some reason, the scratching sound of Gibbs' sanding work was the perfect background noise to their collective and similar thoughts.

It was silent for a while. At some point, Ziva's head found its way to his shoulder. He'd glanced at her – she'd been wide awake. No one could seem to be able or to want to fall asleep. He'd taken her hand and held on tightly.

He didn't know why they all needed this. Why they just _had _to be in Gibbs' house, all together, quietly munching on their respective wonderings. What he did know was that Gibbs was the leader – Ducky's age seniority and Jenny's pay-grade status were strangely ignored. Gibbs was the one they all turned to for advice and support and that was no secret for anyone that knew them. That probably accounted for the location of their impromptu (well, impromptu for Gibbs – the rest of them had it planned for a couple of hours already) encounter.

But he didn't want to think. Maybe he had to – the last couple of days probably seriously required it – but he wasn't feeling like it. Not right then. He needed the quiet on the outside _and_ on the inside of his mind.

He needed Ziva's warm body leaning against his, and her chocolate curls spilling on his chest.

Tony glanced at Ziva, who was looking out the window of the car.

He didn't know what to do with her. He didn't know what to do with his feelings for her. Hell, he didn't know what to _make _of her or _her_ feelings, even. She seemed to swing either way, depending on what her emotional state was – that was how it was ever since he'd met her, and he'd taken a ridiculous amount of time realizing it. Forget about understanding it.

For some reason, however, ever since she'd remembered… whatever it was, things were- different. She felt warmer, somehow, and more open than he'd ever seen her. That was why he'd wondered whether her memories were connected with their kiss.

Oh yeah, then there was that, too.

He'd kissed her, and she hadn't killed him afterwards. He considered that an impressively big accomplishment, if he did say so himself. True – she'd immediately stepped back, eyes oozing panic, and neither of them had been quite sure what to do. So they stared at each other, panting slightly (Tony feels the need to remind the reader that it had been nothing but a peck on the lips), absolutely terrified about their next course of action.

Then they'd bolted out the door, and hung on to any semblance of normalcy and that-never-happened policy they could find.

Of course, Tony wasn't quite stupid enough to think nothing had changed. Boldness (homicide worthy, stupidity driven, moronic filled, daredevil-like, playing with serious fire kind, boldness) had told him to let himself give in to his sudden urge regarding Ziva's very enticing butt, and he'd quite dumbly carried out the instructions.

Had it happened a mere forty-eight hours previously, he would have a broken femur, a handful of cracked ribs and a body-covering coat of spanking new bruises. Instead, he got a smack right back.

No one changed quite that much without a reason – and certainly not when trying to pretend certain things had never taken place. And they didn't smile like she had throughout the whole day either.

So he decided to resolve things for once and for all later that day, at home that evening. She was aware of the plan – he knew she was. Ziva could be oblivious to many things, and try her hardest to push things to the back of her mind, desperately refusing to think about them ever again – but she was anything but stupid. She knew they needed to talk; she knew they couldn't ignore whatever it was that was going on between them any longer; and she was a lot more enthusiastic of the idea than before. He knew that too.

Harry's dinner invitation might have delayed the time of the conversation, but it was still taking place and they were both well aware of that. So, when Tony drove directly to his place, Mary in the back seat and snoring, and Ziva silently watching the dark streets flow by through the glass, his partner didn't question a thing.

Instead, when he parked, she stepped out of the vehicle and grabbed all their things while Tony quietly and carefully multitasked picking Mary up and closing the car.

That was obviously the delaying for the inevitable moment where he found himself staring at an awkward-looking Ziva, who was standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly unable to do anything else but to fidget and avoid his gaze.

"Right." He muttered. "I'm gonna need a beer for this."

Ziva's lips twitched, but the uncertainty never left her eyes. "Make that two, please."

Tony all but bolted to the kitchen, sneaking a glance as Ziva dropped down to his couch. She looked as tired as he felt. And that only made him feel even more exhausted.

When he (finally) sat down with her, he readily and very smartly realized he had absolutely nothing to say. And also no idea of how to say it.

So, if he, the man of all the words, was at a lost for them, he was understandably shocked senseless at her next, bold sentence. "You kissed me." She stated bluntly.

For a handful of seconds, he contemplated either spitting out his bear in dramatic, movie-worthy idiocy, or staring at her in silence. Since the first one was more prone to ruin the unusually serious mood between the two of them (which he was actually in serious need of), the latter won out.

"Yes. Yes, I did." But still, he wouldn't be Tony without giving a stupid answer.

Ziva rolled her eyes, slumping slightly into the couch as her nervousness was somewhat subsided. He hoped she knew that he'd undo that quickly enough. He sat down next to her, handing her the bottle in his hand. Her first swig gulped down about a quarter of the liquid. Well. Glad to know they were all very comfortable there.

He drummed his fingers on the outside glass of the object in his hand. His partner's silence probably meant the bold and the brave had hurriedly fled to somewhere without Tony-shaped complications. "You know, I'm not sure how you'll be getting home. We did drink a fair amount at Gibbs'. More is probably not advisable." He said, gesturing to his bottle – which was, _very_ surprisingly, already halfway empty. "And your car is still at the Navy Yard."

He was giving her an out. And opportunity to take it all back, to move to the next conversational topic on and forget what had happened earlier. They could keep acting normally, like nothing had ever happened, and no one would ever be any the wiser.

She glanced at him before taking another long gulp. He could actually _see _her steeling herself. "Beer does not count. Besides," She murmured, and her reddened cheeks told him that she either had a really low tolerance for the liquid, or that she was about to say something he'd be very interested to hear. "maybe I am not planning on going home tonight."

She had certainly _not _taken the outing.

Suddenly, it was very wrong to still have half-a-foot of space between them. Tony hurried to correct that.

His beer clumsily found the coffee table that Tony _knew _he had placed in the living room a few years earlier. He _knew _he used it regularly, except his brain was a little too muddled to remember it. He wasn't exactly looking at it anyway.

He took his partner's empty bottle and settled it next to his. He moved closer to her, shoulders inches from each other. He was staring, but she wasn't staring back. Instead, she was inspecting her feet, and Tony was quite unable to neither identify nor deal with what rushed through him at the sight of her embarrassed figure.

"Really?" He mumbled. She could feel his breath brushing in a quiet rush against her cheek. "What _are_ you planning on?"

She looked up, and found that to be a mistake. What was meant to be a quick, sneaking glance was frozen in place and time. His green eyes were compelling – too much so that she couldn't stop trying to figure them out.

"That depends." She was leaning toward him, and she neither knew why or how. That was usually the case with Tony anyway.

"On what, Ziva?" Her name fell from his lips in a way that made her stomach stir in pleading for whatever it was that she thought he could give her. That was not what she wanted to wonder about at the moment.

It was so eerily quiet – she heard his breathing and his heartbeat louder than she heard her own. A rustling when his feet shuffled so that he could get closer (there couldn't possibly be any more space between them, yet she was still irritatingly far from him). A tap as his hand found hers. A hum at the skin-to-skin contact when he sneaked his fingers through her own.

His face was smoldering – if she were a lesser woman, she'd have found it too much to bear. He was wearing that unreadable expression that he used whenever he was hiding actual, real feelings that he genuinely didn't want anyone to know about. Lips stretched not in a smile, not in a line, but a sort of peaceful look that didn't correspond to his actual thoughts.

She liked that face, for some reason. It linked him to her, because she was exactly like him when it came to self-protection – she'd hide with a vigor that encouraged the most determined of men to quit trying. They would never find her.

Except he still tried. And she still tried too, when it came to him. And they were both aware that they could succeed – that, for each other, they were one of the very restricted amount of people that could.

"I-" She stopped. She could not answer that with words. She didn't know how.

He sensed that. A speculative expression flickered among his eyes. He stood up, and her eyes followed him as he stretched and smiled. He offered her a hand. "Wanna dance?"

His grin was enticing, his hand warm and his body inviting. She very much wanted to. He had taken off his jacket and tie, and part of his chest was visible. That may have contributed to her decision.

She silently used his hand as an anchor to stand up, and then she was inches from his lips. And she couldn't decide to look at either that or his eyes, because her body was fighting with her brain about it.

Her breathing was heavy, his pupils wide and dark, and her skin unnaturally cold at his touch. It took a while for her to realize it was the other way around – he was almost feverish.

"There is no music." She murmured. Her chest was brushing his with every time she inhaled. She noticed that every time that that happened, Tony's eyes would flash and the green would become brighter and deeper.

He pulled her one step back. "Who needs it?" His voice was low, and it reverberated through her very efficiently.

Ziva was suddenly quite aware that the purpose of dancing was less about the actual action and more about the physical proximity it brought on. But the rules of society that declared lying improper advised her not to say that she was in any way against it.

He took another step back and they were in a more open space, without the small table hindering them. His hands left hers (they became suddenly cold) and found her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her concentration was vaguely stolen from his face. They were like a couple of teenagers awkwardly wondering where this would lead.

"Ziva…" He breathed – she wasn't aware that dancing with her required that much of a physical effort. But that didn't impede her from either liking the sound or instinctively leaning closer because of it. "What I said earlier… I meant it. It's… actually important that I know you know that." She knew what he meant. His very awkward 'I have feelings for you' sentence.

He took a step forward this time, and his arms were tightening on her hips. Her mouth opened barely to breathe, her nose no longer enough. "I know."

Her nose touched his cheek when he took another step. His hand brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and then fell to grasp hers and pull it from over his shoulder. He smiled – she _really _liked his smile. That was her excuse.

He'd kissed her before – she'd kiss him now.

Any air still wondering when it would disappear from between their scorching bodies whooshed out of there. She pressed herself into him, the gesture and his own temperature warming her immediately. Her lips met his, and he wasted no time in responding.

It was still quiet – but her ears didn't seem to know that. Then again, she suspected that what she was hearing had little to do with actual noise.

Her hands flew to his neck again. As if they weren't close enough, Tony made full use of his power over her body, and his arms hooked her around the waist, making sure she was as glued to him as she could be without merging.

She remembered now why she had had trouble leaving the Observation Room earlier. She was almost hungrily and urgently (though not very gently) _craving _him, and she was anything but dependent. The only problem with that was that she only managed to let go of his mouth when they were both needing oxygen.

Her eyes remained shut (she did not remember closing them). She felt his forehead touching hers, and she processed, somewhere far, far in the back of her mind, that he was breathing like there was no tomorrow. Her hand was somehow still tight in his.

"I wanna do that again." Tony's gasped sentence was probably the first thing he'd been able to say.

She exhaled a laughing breath, hitting his arm with disheartened and weak abandon. "You are an idiot. And I am saying that too often for comfort."

"Still wanna do it again." His grin was nearly blinding when she finally opened her eyes. "Nice nap?"

She kissed him again to find that it was an effective way of shutting him up.

"God." He muttered when they parted again, and he released a sound that was scarily close to a purr when she ran a hand through his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist more properly and more tightly, and her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"Tony?" She called. The way his body was cocooning her was leading her to an almost sleep-like comfort, but there was something she desperately needed to say before she lost coherency.

He made a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat – her go-ahead signal, she guessed. "I- have feelings too." She admitted.

There was a pause. Then she felt his chest shaking when he barely contained his laughter. A well-aimed kick to his toes was enough for the amusement to die. "I know." He told her more seriously, sobering up. "But I think that's not exactly the right word, don't you?"

She slowly withdrew from him, and the way his eyes were keen and burning made any words of the subject-changing variety die in her throat. "No. Maybe not."

His lips pulled up in a real, small smile that he reserved for the kind of occasions when he knew to be serious without anyone telling him to. "That's good. It means we're on the same page, then."

_Hopefully_. It was a rather loaded word, and Ziva had no interest in analyzing it right then.

She just wanted to think about him. He made sure she got what she wanted, obviously, because that was just what he did.

A few hours later, Ziva found herself suffering the smoothest and most confortable waking up she'd had in… too long.

She was content, uncharacteristically relaxed, and warm. And there was something rather settled inside her. As if there was a troubling matter that had been bothering and upsetting her in a while that had disappeared. The cozy and edible-looking chest underneath her probably qualified.

She was almost literally wrapped in him – his arms, his legs, his ruffled hair (she had a thing with his hair). Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder-blade, and her nose nuzzled his neck. Normally, when the small amount of available air was limited like that, she would be induced to panic. But she, for some reason, rather found Tony her own personal source of oxygen.

Oh, God. That was _so _cheesy. She did not _do_ cheesy.

Still didn't stop her from relishing the way the hand poised on the back of her head put her every nerve on a slow-burning fire.

She came to the conclusion that there was only one discomfort with her at the moment – she was thirsty. And, unfortunately, it was the kind of thirsty that awoke her, kept her fidgeting, and made her toes curl over the agonizing dryness of her throat.

Regretfully, she gently pried Tony's arm from her torso. His eyes tightened, but they did not open. She rolled his legs away from hers - gingerly so as not to wake him – and his frown deepened, his mouth eliciting an annoyed grumble.

When she finally managed to free herself from his embrace, she was a little light-headed at the display of emotions that had so openly ran across his face.

She stumbled into the kitchen, blearily looking around – it had to be around three in the morning – and managed to come across the glass door compartment. And that was where she was when she heard the small footsteps behind her.

Mary was awake, and rubbing her red-rimmed eyes in the poorly lit entrance of the division. She was wearing one of Tony's old t-shirts – it reached the middle of her lower legs – and she'd been sleeping in a shabby sleeping bag Tony had had stashed somewhere.

"I am sorry." Ziva whispered, coming out of her surprise. "I did not mean to wake you."

Mary shook her head, making her way to her. "You didn't." She said quietly, perching herself on a chair. "I… was having trouble sleeping."

Ziva paused, remembering Mary's aversion to milk, before she placed a glass of water in front of the little girl. "Would you like to tell me why?" The Israeli offered, sitting down with her own drink and scrutinizing her.

She seemed unwilling to share, and Ziva was reminded of herself when something bad was upsetting her. She would close off, keep it all in, and let whatever problem was gnawing at her insides silently destroy her. Her logical follow-up to that thought was simple: she quite refused to let Mary go through the same.

But Ziva knew better then to force her to abdicate her silence. Instead, she switched to light, uncompromising and non-dangerous talk that would warm Mary to the Israeli. "You know, Tony does not usually invite people to his apartment. You must be very special." She complimented with a small smile. She watched as the little girl sipped her water, her cheeks warming a little in appreciation for her comment.

"Tony's very nice." She answered, tugging on a stray lock that had fallen over the front of her shoulder.

"Yes, he is." Ziva hummed in agreement. Then she paused, reconsidering. She wanted to be fair to Tony in her words. "When he wants to be, anyway." She corrected, drawing a small grin from Mary.

"You have to be special as well, though." The little girl poised her elbows on the table, plopping her chin on her hands. "You're in his house too."

Ziva blinked, taken aback. Well, Mary certainly had a way to turn a conversation around. "I guess I am." She smiled, maybe a little wider than fully required.

She took a good look at Mary. She was hesitant, and nervous, and carefully collected. Ziva knew that way of being, and she didn't wish it on anyone else, much less her. She was a small child that did not deserve to carry such a burden.

The Israeli slowly realized that Tony wasn't exactly the only one who'd formed an unhealthy attachment to the little girl.

Ziva allowed a few moments of silence to comfort the two of them to each other, and let Mary relax her built-in defenses. "Would you like to tell me now why you could not sleep?" She asked softly, when the little girl seemed happy enough.

Mary carefully set her glass back on the table. Ziva refilled it, and the water hit the bottom of it with an eerie amount of noise in the thick silence. "I- I had a nightmare."

_Damn_. Ziva winced. She didn't wonder what the nightmares were about. She had a funny feeling that she didn't need to ask. "Would you… like to talk about it?" She swallowed the grimace that threatened to form at the words. She was terrible at this, and she knew it. To talk with Mary about the trauma she was going through, no matter how selfish it sounded, was the last thing she wanted to do.

Mary shook her head vigorously. "No!" She exclaimed, so loud that Ziva glanced at the door uneasily, wondering if Tony would wake up. Mary didn't seem to notice, as she kept her eyes cast downwards and her fingers strained around the cup.

"I will not make you, then." She promised, rubbing the back of the little girl's hand lightly.

At that, Mary's tense shoulders slumped, more relaxed, her eyes stole a glance at Ziva and she bit her lower lip. "I just… don't want to think about it again." She backtracked, her voice lower this time.

Silence fell, like a precariously balanced acrobat on a thin line. Ziva was cautious of any words she might say – and, with slightly embarrassed surprise, she realized how much better Tony was at this. Then again, Tony didn't seem to have quite as much trouble with dealing with people as she did.

"Mary?" She called in a light tone, snapping the little girl's ware attention into focus. Ziva smiled reassuringly to pacify her. "When I had nightmares, my mother would read a story to me." It wasn't completely untrue. Before her father's indiscretions and her mother's consequent departure, Rivka's voice had soothed her whenever she had nightly terrors. "Would you like me to tell you a story? You need to sleep." She advised, giving her a proper reason for her offer.

She blinked up at the Israeli, and, for some reason, it made Ziva nervous and eager to backtrack. But then she nodded as enthusiastically as she could at that hour of the night, and Ziva followed the little girl out of the kitchen and to Tony's office, where he'd cleared enough space for her sleeping bag.

"My mom used to read to tell me stories too…" Mary told her. She still looked uneasy about the subject, but the fact that she was willing to talk about it eased Ziva's worry a fair bit. She hoped that when it came a time where she grasped what this meant completely, either Tony or her would be with her, so that she had fewer reservations with letting it all out.

Mary sunk into the fabric, fidgeting to her preferred position, and Ziva sat beside her, crossed-legged. "Well, you have not heard this story, I am very sure of it."

"Why?"

"Because it is Israeli." Ziva answered, plopping her chin on her hands, her elbows supported by her knees.

"I don't know Israeli, Ziva." Mary answered, a small pout on her lips. Ziva found herself grinning at the expression.

"In Israel, you speak Hebrew, not 'Israeli'. And do not worry, tateleh." Ziva stopped abruptly, startled at what she'd just said. Her great-grandmother used to call her that as a child, and Ziva's head unconsciously shook to rid herself of the fog in her mind. "I will speak in English." She said softly.

"No." She whined slightly. Ziva blinked in confusion. "Stories are no good translated. Tell it in Hebrew. Maybe I can learn some words." She said brightly.

Ziva chuckled. She liked Mary and her antics. Sometimes, the little girl reminded her of Tony.

So Ziva told the story in her native language, and - while she was positive that the most that Mary had picked up on were the words 'shalom' and 'ken' - she thought that the little girl had managed to enjoy the half of the narrative she was awake to listen to. But she hadn't taken much time to fall asleep, and so, when Ziva found herself lingering a bit more than necessary by the door and staring at her, she was a little sorry to go.

She made her way back to Tony's room, and she managed to keep her blood equally spread in her body at the thought that she'd slept (and maybe done a bit more than that) there.

And, for the first time since she'd allowed seldom used parts of her brain to guide her actions, she remembered with a much too high amount of terror, _Gibbs_.

_What_ were they supposed to tell him? The man controlled the whole chessboard of all their lives, and that was because he knew all and had all the resources to make sure things always went his way. Good God, they were _so_ dead.

Strangely, those thoughts were quick to leave her when she crossed the threshold of his bedroom and set eyes on him.

In her absence, he'd spread more freely, and there was now an arm dangling from the side of the bed. The other was hidden by her pillow, and she paused to take it all in.

Shaking her head, she sneaked under the covers again, inching closer to the places Tony's body heat had warmed.

Her partner cracked an eye open, and there was a small grin in his face at the sight of her tangled hair and his rumpled sheets. "Morning already? I knew you got up early, but not _this_ early." He asked sleepily, smile broadening when she made a face, looking frazzled.

"I am sorry I woke you." She apologized. "And no. Not yet." She ordered her limbs to relax into the mattress and pillow.

"That's good, because it's entirely too early for you to get out of this bed." He said, smirking as her torso was pulled to him - a prompt given by Tony's tugging arm.

Ziva rolled her eyes, but she couldn't exactly deny that either his arm or its movement was unwelcome. "Go to sleep." She told him, making an effort to follow her own advice.

Closing her eyes seemed to be the wrong way to do that, because Tony was kissing her eyelids as soon as she did. Fighting the smile, she opened her eyes and pretended to be annoyed. "Is everything I do a prompt for you?"

His grin was completely unabashed. It always was, so she didn't know why she was noting that in the first place. "Absolutely."

"Of course." Her eyes were beginning to feel a little heavier.

His own eyes closed as his lips formed another smile. She liked it, she decided. Usually, when she was sleeping in the same bed with someone, she would turn her back to them. She didn't seem to have such issues with Tony.

"Hey, Ziva?" He called in a murmur, eyelids still shut. "Do me a favor. Don't go anywhere until I get up." He opened one eye, and gave her a slight grin. "I like waking up to pretty women." He was such a moron.

But then the smile vanished and the eye closed, and she was free to see the tension manifesting itself in the form of a slight frown on his forehead. Maybe her past actions (mainly, the way she fled like a rat from a cat every time Tony got just a little closer) weren't in her favor when it came to just… being there.

Her hand brushed his cheek. "I am here." She whispered.

"And you're not going anywhere." He mumbled. Her lips tugged up, and her eyes blearily opened again. She kissed his cheek with deliberate delay of her lips on his skin.

She switched to a better position to face his half-slumbering expression. His eyes were closed, and she watched him falling asleep again. Her fingers ghosted over his head, barely brushing the tuffs of hair sticking up, and she snuggled closer to herself and him.

Gibbs or not, only someone incredibly stupid would be willing to give this up. That or someone who didn't know what they were missing out on.

"No, I am not." She answered quietly. And he was either still awake or he could kiss her nose in his sleep.


	16. Late Spikes and Bad Visits

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"You're late. Both of you."

_Damn._ Gibbs was looking from one to the other with narrowed eyes. Jesus, they'd decided to keep it secret for a few days and they hadn't lasted more than a few minutes.

"I called Ziva to give me a hand with Mary. I don't know much about eight-year-old girls' outfits." Tony said immediately. "I ended up making her late too."

It was a practiced story, obviously. If they were stupid enough to tell Gibbs that they'd been late because they'd slept in due to being tired from breaking one of his rules, they didn't really deserve the lives they'd be losing in the follow-up to that conversation.

McGee was amusedly staring at the two of them. Apparently the scene he'd walked in on Observation was now funny to him. Ziva's bag dropped next to her desk, and Tony made his way to his, pretending he wasn't noticing how Gibbs' eyes were burning a hole in his back. When he heard a quiet, exhaled breath and the fearful shivers running through his back stopped, he knew Gibbs had given up.

"Abby asked to have Mary downstairs for today, DiNozzo." Tony turned back to his boss once he realized he was no longer in the line of fire. Gibbs was glancing at the little girl that had sat down, crossed-legged on the floor, next to Tony's desk.

She no longer seemed apprehensive of the Goth. In fact, she seemed quite eager to go. Bright eyed, she looked up at Tony hopefully. "Can I?"

He groaned. "Only if you make her promise to keep any and all spikes a wide berth from you." He told her, already standing up to lead her down to the lab.

Mary nodded, taking his hand and following him to the elevator.

"Abs?" He called, stepping out of the elevator and listening to the lack of music in the premises. A grinning face popped around from the doorway of the lab.

"Hi!" She cried, as perky and over-excited as ever. Then, completely ignoring the senior agent (she was apparently still harboring a grudge against him for not telling her about Mary), she turned to the little girl. "C'mon, Mary, I have something for you!" And the little girl was being dragged head-first behind Abby.

Tony warily decided to follow them, taking a few extra seconds that he hoped Gibbs would forgive him for. "No music?" He asked as an excuse to be able to stay a little while longer.

"I knew Mary was coming, and so that you wouldn't waste time and self-harm your own life by turning down the volume as we spoke, I turned it off for now. When you leave, I'll put it back up, that is, if Mary likes it, but then, it's great music, so-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah – Abby, what is _that_?" Tony hastily interrupted her rant, intently staring at the small-sized spike-decorated collar Abby was now holding.

Abby beamed at him, unfazed by his rudeness. She was probably used to it, anyway. "It's for Mary." She said brightly, turning to the little girl, who was staring at the object in utter fascination.

Abby fastened it around her neck so fast that Tony didn't even have time to protest. Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork with an excited clap. "Oh, it looks _awesome_." She squealed in delight, and Mary grinned back. All these people were so nice and silly, she was starting to feel better (and not just better, but actually good) just from all the goofiness.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, torn between not wanting to annoy the two girls and worry that Mary would hurt herself. "Abby…" She ignored him.

The elevator dinged, and Gibbs stepped out, holding a coffee and a cup of Caf-POW. He spotted Abby and Mary and stopped short, staring at the little girl's new gift. "Abby..." He said with the exact same wary tone and pinched expression as Tony's. They were even mimicking each other's stance.

"It's rubber, Gibbs." She answered immediately, smile never faltering as she bounded happily to him to take the drink from his hand. Tony scowled at her, annoyed that she'd said that to his boss and not to him.

"DiNozzo, back upstairs." And Gibbs turned around and left. Abby blew Tony a raspberry when he left, and the Italian crossed his eyes at her, sticking out his tongue in return.

"I'm playing daddy to a bunch of kids." Gibbs muttered to himself, having observed the scene. He took the stairs, not in the mood to deal with DiNozzo at the moment. The next time he spoke to the senior agent alone would be when he chewed out his brain for lying to him about sleeping with Ziva.

When he got to the bullpen again, he barely contained a groan. He was remembering vividly why he'd created rule 12.

DiNozzo had both arms pressed against the wall of their designated work place, and, between them, Ziva was leaning back against the wall, eyebrows playfully raised in quite the suggestive look. Even as he watched, Tony decided that two inches was an inch too long between the two of them.

Any other day, he would have strolled in there, told them to quit playing grab-ass and get to work. Any other day.

That day, he pinched his eyes, gave an almighty one-eighty, and vanished somewhere else – anywhere else. Well, Jenny's office was his most likely destination.

Meanwhile, Tony was thoroughly enjoying himself, and his thoughts were very far away from Gibbs, his job, or anything related to either.

Ziva's were pretty much in the same direction. She quite liked being in sync with him like that.

McGee had left – somehow, she had a sneaking suspicion that that might have had something to do with the two of them. Regardless of the reason, the truth was that they had been left alone in the bullpen.

A word of advice: when you have two impulsive, sexually active, brash and newly-dating rule-breakers with serious issues, no fear of death and several years' worth of sexual tension with each other, do not leave them in a semi-secluded place together and alone. It's simple cultural knowledge.

Tony had a smirk on his face – of course he did. He had gotten what he'd been aiming for God-knows how long, and he was happy that it was possible. Ziva understood that, and there was a light feeling in her stomach that she'd been the one to make that happen.

"There is a loose screw digging into me." She informed him with a grin, leering in a way that was completely inappropriate for a lady. "My back, I mean." She corrected a little too long after her first comment.

His hands left the wall to sneak around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and he was smiling. "Better?" He asked, and his face was entirely too close to hers, and his breath was entirely too good of a feeling on her skin.

She could see the amusement sparkling green in his eyes, but, for once, she wanted to play along with his silliness. She wanted to have these ridiculous talks, because they made people feel good, and she just eager for that - she was too tired to continue avoiding what she wanted. She figured all of the years she'd spent pulling back from everything nice in her life had to count for something. She could be allowed this, at least. With Tony, she felt wanted, and _that_ made her feel happy. So she'd have it, just because.

Her arms dropped lightly on his shoulders, hands tangled behind his back. "Very much so." She registered surprise flickering in his face, and she realized she wasn't the only one noticing the way she usually pulled back whenever she felt in too deep – but not today.

He stepped even closer, grinning, now. "Really?" He asked playfully, eyes sparkling.

Her nose touched his. "Yes."

And he was back to a warm smile, and she was wrinkling his suit with her closeness.

"Gibbs." She muttered, when it became apparent he was going to kiss her. He pulled back, raised eyebrows in amusement.

"Not my name, sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes, hitting his arm in annoyance at the name. "Gibbs cannot catch us like this, you idiot." He sighed; suddenly, she was free, and the moment ended. Still, there would always be the lingering smiles and the soppy looks that would make McGee gag throughout the rest of the day.

The moment they sat down on their respective desks, Gibbs entered the bullpen again, but Ziva noticed that he did so more quietly than usual. With shocked (and more than a little amused) outrage, she realized that he was hoping to silently catch them in the act – whatever it was that Gibbs thought the 'act' was.

Well, since they were very innocent at the moment, he seemed to stick with scrutinizing the two very closely and very carefully. "DiNozzo, your tie's sideways." He said unexpectedly, resuming the walk to his desk. Ziva's eyes snapped to Tony, and she realized that her boss was right. Watching as her frazzled partner scrambled to fix himself, she slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. "So's your ponytail, David." Gibbs threw out casually, sitting and pretending he wasn't paying attention to anything but his computer (which, if it had been true, would have been a first).

Ziva scowled, rolling her eyes as her hands flew to the back of her head and smoothed out her hair. Tony made a funny face at her, as if he was keeping himself from sticking out his tongue.

That was about when McGee tentatively returned, eyes darting around as if he was checking to see if the coast was clear. His hand was poised in mid-air, looking ready to slap itself over his eyes if needed. (It was safe to say he was no longer entertained by their behavior).

Were they _that _obvious? Seriously? Did the whole building know by now?

Then again, they _had _been on the verge of making out in the middle of the bullpen, in plain view of anyone with eyes. And they _had _arrived together. And Ziva _had _arrived a lot later than usual.

Technically, they hadn't tried to be very inconspicuous, if Tony were to be honest to himself.

But he usually _wasn't _honest with himself, and he failed to see a reason to start now.

So, he pulled a random sheet from his desk, assuming it would be paperwork (like the remaining ninety-eight per-cent of paper on his desk) and started mutely working on it. He surreptitiously eyed his boss once in a while. If anyone (Gibbs) knew, they (Gibbs) would talk to (or kill) Tony or Ziva (just Tony) because the senior agent was sure as hell not going to breach the subject first.

So he shut up, as if nothing had changed. And they worked.

It didn't take long for their latest peppy pain in the butt to show up.

Except he didn't look so peppy now. Harry was in later than he'd promised, and he wasn't looking so hot. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his complexion was pale, and, if he'd looked too young before, he looked like the kid he was now. He walked briskly to their desks, stopping nowhere until he'd reached Gibbs'.

He stared stiffly at the man, crossing his arms. "Your association with this case is officially over. The American and British Magical Governments thank you for your collaboration, and ask that you call back the men you sent off for protection of the Muggleborns' families, and their memories will be dealt with." And he made to turn and walk away, if it weren't for Tony's body suddenly blocking the exit.

The rest of them snapped out of their shock, standing up too. Gibbs walked to the two men, so that he was standing, crossed-arm behind him while DiNozzo blocked his front. "What do you mean, 'our association with this case is officially over'?" Gibbs snapped, frowning. "What's going on?"

Harry clenched his teeth, but the senior agent in front of him just raised his eyebrows. The wizard turned back to Gibbs, and his eyes were as emotionless as only he could make them. "I told you. We don't need any more help. We're going in today."

Gibbs picked up on something in the kid's voice that made his gut perk up. "Who is 'we', Potter?" He asked quietly, scrutinizing his expression with his usual stare.

Harry's eyes flashed and Gibbs knew he'd pushed the right button. But he didn't answer. Still, he knew. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be approved by the Ministry – Gibbs figured he was going off on his own, probably with Weasley and Granger.

Hell, it'd be what Gibbs himself would do.

"What happened?" Gibbs chose to ask a different question.

Harry just stood there blankly, not answering anything and waiting for them to eventually shut up and leave him alone.

That didn't happen. After several moments of silence, Gibbs repeated his question with the softer voice he used on suspects he thought the easy approach would work better on. "_What_ happened?"

Harry's shoulders slumped. His mask fell, and he seemed to deflate before their eyes. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and Gibbs knew that something had gone terribly wrong. And he also knew they were about to find out what.

"Ginny… She's been kidnapped."

Tony's arms, previously holding each side of the 'door' of the bullpen in a would-be-casual gesture, dropped down to his sides in shock. He glanced at Ziva to see her wide eyes staring back.

"The letter!" She exclaimed. "The threat - Abby said she could not match the prints she found, and that it was otherwise clean."

Harry nodded thickly, head barely moving. "They kept their word on what they wrote." He ground out.

"Kidnapped?" Tony prompted – this line of conversation was leading them nowhere - looking at the wizard again.

Harry rubbed his face warily. "She's been taken. She was in Diagon-Alley, even though I _told _her not to go on her own-" His expression betrayed his flaring fury, but he swallowed it back down and continued through clenched teeth. "And, somehow, she was caught alone and abducted."

"How do you know all this?" Gibbs, quick to jump into action, immediately snapped into interrogation mode.

Wordlessly, Harry's answer was to wave his wand and make a floating screen appear in mid-air. Gibbs' eyes widened as he snapped his head around to make sure there was no one nearby, before he glared at the wizard. "Let's move this to the conference room." He growled through thin lips.

"There's no need." Harry snapped, and he waved his wand, muttering something that sounded like 'mulato'. Ziva had noticed that, usually, he was less obvious when doing magic in front of them, but he seemed to have no such qualms now.

The shimmering image was now moving. And Ziva realized that – whatever it was – it was somehow live. "Harry!" A red-haired, pregnant woman they knew very well said from the other side. She looked harassed – her hair was filled with tangled curls, her clothes were rumpled - but otherwise fine. She was tied to a chair in an apparently empty, black room – and that was all they could see.

Tony's eyes were drawn to her stomach. If they did something to her… She was too far along for the baby to be properly protected by his mother's body.

Ginny looked behind her husband and noticed everyone there. "You're at NCIS." She said, surprised.

Harry's face was steeling as he stared at his wife – his way of not being the one scared. To be honest, she was doing a better job, and she was the one being held captive. "I came to ward them off. I needed the place clear if we're going to go." He glanced around in annoyance at them all. "Needless to say, it didn't exactly work."

Ginny glared at Harry furiously, but she said nothing. She obviously didn't want him to go to where she was – though it was strange that she wasn't voicing that the way she usually did.

"I don't get it." Tony spoke up in confusion. "How are you able to talk?" He asked both Ginny and Harry.

Harry tapped his foot, obviously impatient and unwilling to just stand there and talk. "It's Hermione's invention. She based it on the Patronus Charm." He added as a second thought.

None of them neither knew nor were going to ask what a Patronus was. They couldn't ask about everything – they didn't have the three life-times it required.

"Okay." McGee said slowly, not about to show he had no idea what the guy had just said. "But it's- magical, right? Then how come they don't have any defenses against it?"

"Because they don't care if I speak to her." Harry growled. "They're probably hoping I do." The unsaid words were clear: it was quite easy to see that the plan was to leave Harry helpless and tortured – and, frankly, it was working.

Any semblance of anger at those words vanished from Ginny's face and the MCRT frowned in an effort to hide their uneasiness. "I'm sorry… It was stupid. I shouldn't have gone out on my own." She apologized, looking near tears.

Harry's face looked away from them, and Tony could no longer see his expression. "It's not your fault. And you're getting out of there." His voice was thick, but that didn't mask the fierceness and defiance in his tone.

"Where exactly is 'there'?" Gibbs finally spoke. He'd been observing them all, hoping to get any clues just from their interactions, but no such luck so far.

"My best guess is the warehouse your computers were tracked to." Harry answered, eyes unwavering from Ginny's tight face. She looked like she was holding back from speaking.

Gibbs didn't want to watch this. The guy was young – he was supposed to be starting his life, not ending up like him. The red-hair on Ginny's head triggered Shannon's memory in his mind – he'd been several years older than Harry and he'd still been too young to lose his wife and daughter. Losing a child happened too soon for everyone.

But, God, this kid hadn't even been born.

"Why can't she tell you if she _is_ there?" Tony asked softly, both edgy of speaking up in front of the live image of their suspects' lair (even if Harry had had no such issues) and compassionate toward the situation.

"Because she's been placed under an Unbreakable Vow." He hissed, and the ire in his face didn't bode well to the responsible people. Surprisingly, they understood what an Unbreakable Vow was – George's stories had mentioned it at some point the previous night. "They're not worried about her giving out information because she simply can't. It was either swearing to it or get beaten to a pulp." He was defensive, as if he needed to protect her choices.

For some wild reason, Tony managed to trace back the reason for that tone. If the Ministry hadn't allowed a search to the premises they needed to look into, then they had to know what had happened. If that was true, then they knew Ginny had taken the Vow.

Which meant that Harry had had to defend her actions to his bosses – why Ginny hadn't allowed herself and her child to be hurt in exchange of the location of the Death Eaters.

Okay, so maybe a little over-dramatic. Harry's Ministry probably hadn't wanted to walk into an ambush, and Harry had possibly had to explain why Ginny was now tied to the 'bad guys' but that was most likely it.

Maybe he hadn't gotten enough sleep after all – his brain was having a class-Abby rant.

"So that's why they aren't watching?" McGee picked up where Tony left off, eyeing the senior agent as Harry shook his head.

"Oh, they're watching. Listening, too." Harry added bitterly.

"Then why have you revealed your plans?" Ziva, the ninja trained to trust no one but her handler, found the disturbing problem with that.

"Because it doesn't matter. They know we know their hiding place. They're counting on us going." He spat, blank eyes not moving from Ginny's face, who was just staying quiet.

"It's a trap. And you're very aware of it." Gibbs stared flatly at him, expression unrevealing. Ginny's eyes flashed, and they were all instantly aware that she agreed with Gibbs whole-heartedly.

"I know. But it's also the only lead I have on my wife."

Ziva did not like this – any of it. Ever since Tali had passed away, she had an aversion to the death of children that almost made her retch. There was a terror-filled black cloud in her chest every time her eyes landed on Ginny's swollen belly.

They had to get her back to her family. And Ziva would help, regardless of Harry's opinion on it. She'd dealt with male opposition many times before. It was the easiest kind to deal with.

Suddenly, a noise was heard – and was quickly identified from being from the other side. Footsteps. Alarm rose like an explosion in Harry's face, and his hand grabbed his wand as if it would make a difference miles away.

But something seemed to change in Ginny's face – it cleared, as if she'd had a brilliant idea.

"Remember when we broke up?" She asked in a rush, eyes wide, like she was giving him a very important clue. "I told you I hated you. I'm sorry about that."

McGee winced, looking away to give the two of them some privacy. He was uncomfortable with this – he liked these wizards; actually, they and their family were about the only ones he hadn't heard bad about so far. And Ginny was pregnant – that could hardly be good in a kidnapping. They needed to help – he was at least sure Gibbs would force himself into the rescue mission.

And then he paused his thoughts, surprised, when she saw Harry's eyes widening and his lips curving into a grin. Out of a sudden, he didn't look so down.

The connection cut, and the last thing they all saw were Ginny's brown eyes - there was no way to tell what had happened to her afterwards. But Harry's new strength barely dimmed. "Oh, you brilliant, gorgeous woman." He breathed, jumping into action with renewed vigor.

He flew to the elevator, punching the button that would open the doors. Before stepping in, his head snapped to the MRCT, who were still grabbing their things.

"Are you coming?"


	17. Mismatching Details and Nice Reminders

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"You wanna tell us what's going on, like, now?" Tony wheezed at Harry, barely holding himself straight as he slipped on a loose rock.

He had no idea what they were doing. At all. After Harry's head-ache inducing run to the front of the building, he'd slipped inside the darkness of the nearest back alley. Then, he'd grasped Gibbs and Tony's arms and vanished into thin air.

By the time he'd gone and come back with McGee and Ziva in tow (and Harry didn't look anywhere near glad that he was wasting so much time – which made Tony wonder why he'd even bothered to bring the MCRT along), Tony was unashamedly wheezing and stumbling back and forth while McGee kept running his hands through his neck, face unnaturally white.

Obviously, the Israeli and their boss behaved a tad better, but Tony was firm in his belief that he at least saw Ziva gagging and Gibbs over-sweating. Naturally, Apparition dropped low enough on Tony's forbidden-transportation list to beat even his partner's driving.

Now, they were climbing what appeared to be some sort of hill toward an unknown (at least for the NCIS team) destination, and Tony wasn't very cheerful about it. His suit was way more than wrinkled (Harry hadn't exactly let them change clothes) and he was afraid of looking down at his shoes.

Ziva glanced behind her and she smirked at his harassed figure. Of course she did. _She _was a Mossad-trained assassin brought up to live through the desert. She was striding easily along, lacking any sort of visible barrier to keeping up with Harry with no trouble.

Well, his mother always did say he picked girls all wrong.

He eyed the facilitated view of Ziva's backside. Then again, there were other perks that more than compensated for it.

Harry barely glanced back at his question. He just kept trudging along feverishly, and the rest of them better keep up or else. "We're going to find Ginny."

Well, that was helpful. But Tony wasn't complaining, because that was the first thing he'd said since the last spell – which was some sort of silvery animal bursting out of the wizard's wand and taking off. Tony had had to hurry to be able to catch up with everyone else, since he'd been so prone on staring.

"That's great." He groaned, rubbing his chest against the soreness. The problem as much the physical effort as it was its continuity. "It's also very unhelpful, but, you know, great."

Harry managed to produce half-a-glare to the senior agent between three-foot long steps. "She mentioned the time when she said she hated me…" He began with a short, clipped voice, swatting away some sort of bug that passed him.

"When you took a break or something." Gibbs said, the first thing that had left his mouth so far.

Harry nodded curtly in front of them, not turning. "Yeah. That's what she said. Except not really."

"Huh?" McGee panted out – Tony guessed it was the only sound he could make. He was, unsurprisingly, at the end of the group, behind Tony, and, since the effort of turning his head was too great, the senior agent didn't glance at him.

"We did break up, once." Harry explained further. "But she didn't tell me she hated me then. She told me she hated me on another occasion."

Tony was half-listening to him. He could see the top of the mountain, and, all due respect and worry to Ginny, he was really, really eager to get there.

Ziva nudged him sharply on the ribs to attract his attention to the branch he'd been about to get whipped with. He dodged out of the way so that he was no longer walking directly against it. After that, he decided to increase the focus he was offering to his senses.

"More specifically, she told me she hated me there." He pointed to the spot Tony's eyes had been trained on. He could she a large boulder that was just begging to be used as a bench. "When I said I'd been here before, and not gone visited her." The raised eyebrows Harry's statement was met with prompted his additional sentence. "I'd been on the run for months by then. Hadn't seen her as long as that."

Nobody asked why he'd been running, or of what.

"But, what, she lived near here?" Ziva asked, looking around with a frown. All she could see was open air and lively grass, sometimes dotted with the cheerful tree, and no habitations anywhere. The sky was sufficiently clear for her to see for several miles around, even.

"Over there" Harry pointed somewhere east. "is the Burrow."

"I'm pretty sure it's illegal to hop continents like this every couple of hours." Gibbs drawled, pushing away a branch to be able to continue forward.

"Maybe in the Muggle world." Harry muttered, seemingly fully intent on paying actual attention on walking (climbing something seriously steep, in Tony's dictionary) instead of talking.

"So… what, she told you she hated you up there. And?" Tony asked, using short sentences for once, which was a proof of how much he _actually_ needed to hit the gym.

"So," Harry continued. "when we _did _end things, we were at Hogwarts, nowhere near here. She was giving me a clue. Whatever happened to her, it's got something to do with this place." He seemed determined to believe it.

"Okay." McGee said slowly. "But then, if you broke it off at… Hogwarts" He struggled to be able to get the word out. "she could have easily be referring to there. Why mention two places?" He questioned, wanting, just like the rest of the team, to clear out any mismatching details this whole confusion brought on.

"Because that was the only way she could think of telling me that wasn't covered by the Vow." Harry answered tersely, obviously still cautious in his conclusions from her sentence. Either way, he ploughed on, answering McGee's question firmly. "She can't mention this place either directly or indirectly." He managed a small smile, even looking back at the four of them. "So she didn't. She only mentioned Hogwarts. Her sentence, in the context, wasn't weird at all, and she never broke the Unbreakable Vow by saying it." He renewed his speed, looking more confident after speaking his theory aloud. "Besides, it's impossible to be taken at Hogwarts nowadays."

Instead of asking why, everyone figured it was just not worth the time and mental effort to question everything that was said by wizards.

"So you think she was taken here?" Tony asked, interest momentarily soothing his discomfort.

"Maybe."

"But she said she was kidnapped at that street you talked about." Gibbs brought up, approaching Harry more, and clearly more unwilling to say magical names than his teammates.

Harry shrugged. "I never bought that. Like I said, it's all covered by the Vow. It's more likely that she was taken somewhere else entirely. This place seems good enough." He said, eyes racking around and taking in everything he could as he kept on briskly.

"How do you know what's covered by the Vow?"

"Guessed." He answered curtly. "If it were me, I'd make sure not to leave any loose ends either." He elaborated to Gibbs' glare.

Silence followed his sentence, until McGee had a rare bout of social inspiration and changed the subject. "W hen did this happen, anyway? When she told you she hated you, I mean." He added quickly, when Harry threw him an annoyed and disbelieving look.

He blinked, not expecting the question, before turning back again. "We came here on a walk not long after… after the end of everything. I told her when I'd been here. Big mistake." He mustered a slight grin that he flashed them for half-a-second.

"Did a number on you, did she?"

"Oh, yeah. But only after kissing me, which followed telling me she hated me."

"Conflicted lady."

Ziva rolled her eyes at the quips. Tony just could not stay serious for long.

Then she nearly stumbled to the ground when a house appeared, seemingly completely and utterly out of nowhere (this time actually out of nowhere) right in front of her.

"Oh, yeah." Harry remembered, and his tone was closer to the one belonging to the cheerful young man she'd become accustomed to over the past few days. "Probably should've told you that was there."

Ziva breathed slowly through her nose. It wouldn't do to attack Harry out of the black. She opened her eyes again to find Tony raising his eyebrows with a funny face at her and Gibbs staring at the house. Her boss seemed to be wondering whether inanimate objects would react like people did to one of his glares.

"This is Luna's childhood home." Harry continued, and she caught a grin, which told her he seemed to be feeling better, even if it was at the team's expense. "It's protected against Muggle sighting, which is why you only noticed it now. I think her father still lives here." He mused as an after-thought. With the stories she'd caught (partially) from Ducky and Luna the previous evening, Ziva believed it.

"Yes, well, I reckon we're not here for courtesy visits." A gruff voice suddenly spoke behind them.

Ron and Hermione were standing there, frowns on their darkened faces. Their stances were all business, and Tony guessed that the animal-thingy had been sent to them, with some sort of message.

"Harry!" Hermione said sharply with a scowl. "_Why _did you bring them?" She gestured to the MCRT, and Ziva found himself straightening and bristling. "I don't mean to insult you, but it's both dangerous and a liability to be bringing Muggles with us!"

"Wasn't a liability when all those kids got home to find dinner instead of wizards with a superiority complex." Harry reminded her, hardly playing attention as he stared at the ground attentively. "Now help me find something – anything at all, really – that might be any clue what-so-ever."

And that's how they spent the next ten minutes – the longest amount of time Harry allowed to be wasted. He called it sufficient – Ziva called it unproductive. But then, Hermione demanded that they all take a break, refusing to listen to Harry's protests ('We need to wait for backup anyway – no, we can't storm a building full of unfriendly killers twenty-to-one – because when we broke into the Ministry, not all the people there were aiming to murder us in cold blood!').

Apparently, she and Ron had climbed from the other side, because, according to her, the higher you tried to Apparate, the harder it was. Although both the Muggles and the wizards (even Hermione, regardless of her logic) looked disgruntled about it, they agreed to rest for a bit – even if it was fifteen minutes tops.

Despite being better than Tony (who was being his whinny self), she was still sore from the walk up there. Gibbs, out of everyone else, was the only one that stayed standing, and DiNozzo probably expected her to do the same. Well, _she_ expected herself to do the same. So, when she found herself plopping to the grass next to her partner and a few feet off the rest of the group, she was only a little less surprised at the action than he was.

He gasped in mock-shock, slapping a hand over his heart. "Ziva David! Did you just indirectly admit _tiredness_?"

"If you do not shut up, I will get _you_ to directly admit pain." She warned, grinning when he huffed out a hissing breath at the contact her elbow made with his arm.

"Touché."

But, instead of letting her arm fall next to her after hitting him, she let it slide, allowing her fingers to sneak into his. She made sure their hands were out of Gibbs' sight.

He wasn't grinning anymore, but he _was _smiling broadly in blatant and quiet (the silence, to anyone that took a look at his expression, would be surprising – if he wasn't yelling, his face certainly was) boasting. Instead of annoying, she found his teenage-like enthusiasm endearing. It probably didn't help that she understood what he was feeling out of personal experience.

She risked a glance at the rest of their climbing party. No one was looking at them, so she felt bold enough to drop her head on his shoulder. Still, she was careful not remain at least partially hidden next to his side.

She felt a pair of warm lips brush her forehead. "You know, we're not being particularly inconspicuous." He murmured with a grin – and then he pulled her closer, effectively stripping any meaning of his words.

She snuck a sly look at him. "Like you care." She retorted, cheek buried in his chest.

Of course he didn't. And neither did she. Physical proximity to him was the last thing she'd complain about.

He grinned unabashedly, shamelessly confirming her words. Maybe subconsciously, they retracted gradually to a place where Gibbs' view of the two was fully impeded by the house. Only then did she relax.

For a few moments, they shared a little moment of silence and peace, as if they could pretend they weren't getting up in a few minutes to go God-knew-where to fight something they'd hardly fought before. Somehow, the hand that wasn't holding hers went to her hair, and her curls slowly became straighter and shinier with his movements. She found herself leaning more and more against him, until her weight was supported almost in totality by his body.

Of course he had to be the one to shatter the peace and quiet. "So, I've been thinking." He began.

She sighed, straightening. She felt colder without the full support of his frame underneath her. "Of course you have."

He made a face at her, and she had to laugh at it. Only when he decided that the mood was relaxed enough again, did he restart to speak. "When this case is over…" She stared expectantly, waiting for him to conclude his trailed-off sentence as he stole an apprehensive glance at her.

She recognized that look. He'd been wearing it since they'd left The Burrow yesterday. It was mostly there when Mary was around, but she had caught him several times distracted, wondering and thoughtful (as his partner, she had spent quite a lot of time with him before; now, she spent even more, so she could safely make that statement). It was getting to a point that, should he fail to reach out to her about it, she would demand that he speak herself.

Now, apparently, he was doing number one, so she decided not to make it even more difficult. He looked like he was struggling with something, and she was both appreciative that he was asking advice and smug that he was asking it to _her_.

"Yes?" She asked softly, so as not to startle him out of his thoughts.

Tony sat up properly, crossing his legs (this was the lowest she'd seen him treat one of his suits – even if there was a (magically appeared) blanked under him) and looking down with a wary frown. "Mary lost her family." He started up again, glancing briefly at his partner, who had a lost look on her face, lacking the ability to pinpoint where he was going with this. "And… I don't think her uncles or aunts, or even her grandparents, are ready or able to… to raise another eight-year-old. And that's not to mention her… abilities." He scratched the back of his head, face betraying the look of a wide-eyed puppy with no clue of his direction.

And, creeping toward her very slowly, like a curtain revealing pieces of the scenery bit by bit, it sluggishly dawned on Ziva what Tony was heading toward saying.

"I just think…" He trailed off, eyes unfocusing on the horizon. "Maybe… I mean, she seems to genuinely _like _me…"

Ziva's head tilted to the side when she stared in awe, open-mouthed, at her partner. "You would like to adopt her." Ziva dazedly said in absolute wonder.

She didn't even begin to think what kind of feelings that statement brought up in her. Her mild fantasy about a family – with Tony, obviously – returned, this time more insistent, more demanding, more within reach. Her hand, almost of its own accord, gravitated to his (she didn't remember letting go).

Tony was intently scrutinizing her expression – for what, she didn't know. Whichever fears were plaguing him, the feel of her fingers squeezing his seemed to subside them, and she saw the tiny flicker of hope in his wild eyes.

But then he looked away, as if reality had crashed back onto him. "No- I mean, yes, but- I don't know." He said tersely. She could almost see him tensing, pulling back – and she experienced a rather mixed feeling. Frustration was about the only thing she could identify. She wanted him to have no boundaries when speaking to her – she wanted him to talk to her freely and allow her to help. Except that his stony face didn't point in that direction at all.

Good God. Was this what people felt when she closed herself to the world, closed the door on everyone? She really wondered, right at that moment, why it was that some people still didn't give up on trying to open a window to her whenever that happened – she was at it for five minutes and she was rendered completely helpless.

"Tony-" She said. When he turned back to her, she found her expression bright and her eyebrows raised. "For what it is worth – I think you have it in you to raise a great little girl. And," She added, when he didn't seem completely satisfied or convinced. "I think Mary would like that very much."

That was it – the trigger. His eyes were wide and (now definitely) hopeful. His fingers made his hair unkempt as he ran them through it nervously, and she wondered what was going through his mind.

What he said next, however, was possibly the last thing she'd bet on. "Would you adopt her with me?" He blurted out, apparently out of the blue – or possibly the heat of the moment.

For a moment, she let her control falter and her mouth fall open in shock. What was he asking of her? Did he realize what those words brought up in her mind? All the things she'd thought over the years about him, all her wishes of creating a family, of settling down with something permanent, never made possible because – always because – of her work.

And- And with him. God. If anyone had asked her who she saw herself grounding with, the last person on her mind would be Tony. Even after she had acknowledged her feelings, she would still refuse to think of him. He was just so… unpredictable.

Except, when it came to trust, he had most of the amount she had to give. She knew she could rely on him. She knew she could close her eyes and give him her hand, and he'd keep her safe.

Still, this was something serious. He was proposing a commitment that could not be taken lightly. It was alright for him – he'd obviously been pondering it for days. She had just had the bombshell dropped in her lap.

His eyes were already widening in realization of what he'd just said. He was coming to understand the full extent of his words, and more than ready to backpedal. But – he stayed silent.

Besides, she knew that if he needed an excuse, he'd provide the fact that an adoption would be more warmly looked upon if it was a couple – and there was a good chance that his odds would not be improved by his professional occupation, so he would likely need it. Even if her own job didn't exactly help matters.

But she didn't say any of that. She stayed honest and uncovered – which was not exactly a regular occurrence.

"Yes." So she couldn't tell who was more dumbstruck at her mumbled answer.

Feverishly (and Gibbs being hardly the first thing on their minds), she all but threw herself at him, hands grasping his brown hair in what he considered an almost painful gesture.

He was still getting used to the feeling of kissing her – the sensation of pure delight that overtook him was entirely too new to be properly controlled.

Tony had already found the reason they'd skirted around the subject of… _them_ for so long. There was no way the damn would close now – their interactions had left him aching with a kind of longing that made anything else seem stale and tasteless in comparison. If this fell through (and he was too fiery about not letting that happen), he knew that he would take everything back, and she'd take everything back, and he'd never be able to look at her again without a gut-wrenching pain that made it worthless to try. So, logically, that just couldn't happen.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how she managed to have that kind of effect on him (though he pretty much had the 'why' down) from just one kiss. She made him think all of that, made his head whirl so bad, just because she could press her body to him, just because she could smile and peck his lips, and just because she somehow knew exactly how to puch his buttons.

God, he was completely and utterly in love with her. And it was turning him into a cheesy moron. At least he was sure of one thing: this would definitely _not _fall through.

And the conclusion to all of this was that he was reminded of why he'd very much enjoyed their night of fervent disregard for their respective asses, if Gibbs ever found out.

Except he'd have to, didn't he? If they were going through with something as serious as this – if they were _adopting _a child – Gibbs would have to be informed. Because an adoption meant a connection that had to be prepared to last, since you didn't bring a kid to a crumbling bridge. For the first time, he started to really see the ramifications of his question and her answer. They had both been heartfelt, even if in the heat of the moment, he knew. And he also knew that this was very, very serious, and that they had a great many things to figure out, and fast.

For now, though, kissing Ziva was about enough.

"What was _that _for?" He breathed, gasping as she pulled back. That was a poor summary of everything that had gone through his head, but it would have to do.

She grinned, her clothes rumpled and her neck marked, and she planted her head on his shoulder. "It _is _what Americans do in movies when they are excited or happy about something, is it not?"

He had no idea what made him say it. It was as if a temporarily clouding fog had filled his mind and made him concentrate on little things that drew his next words out.

Like the way her lips were swollen from his bites and licks. Her comment probably helped too. And the fact that she'd just agreed to adopt a child with him. Or the way her hair still half-preserved the mark of his hand tangled in it, or maybe the unbuttoned top of her shirt that she still hadn't noticed. Maybe her eyes were too bright for him to focus, too warm for him not too feel warm as well. The quiet space around him was pretty damn beautiful too.

Either way, his next words came out in a trance no one could break or stop.

"I love you."

There was a sharp intake of breath (he wasn't sure if his or hers) and her head whipped around to him, eyes wide in alarm.

For seconds her eyes flashed and flickered with several unrecognizable thoughts, and it seemed like so long that he was ready to make a joke out of it all.

But maybe his trance was a little bit contagious – just a little – because her eyes suddenly gained a glazed over aspect and her hand shakily reached forward to his face, slowly and deliberately. Her fingers lightly traced the outline of his jaw and she seemed to be driven by the same urge that he'd been driven by. "I… love you, too, Tony."

Had he really gone from no girlfriend to adopting a child with the girl he was now exchanging love declarations with in less than a day? Maybe he was better with women than his mother thought after all. On top of that, he had no idea when they'd started to be so damn soul-bearing about their feelings – weren't they the ones who couldn't seem to speak openly to each other in some way that was _not _riddles?

He kissed her again – he liked that he could do it whenever he wanted. The exhilaration of both their words wouldn't be burning itself out anytime soon, and he was very happy about living with that.

"Well," He breathed when they pulled back for air. "I certainly have no objections to doing this again. Any of it." He beamed, and, like a child on a sugar rush, he became hyperactive that he was getting everything he wanted and then some. He was _happy_, period. "In fact, I feel pretty stupid about not doing it before."

She was chuckling, her mood hardly different from his, when his last sentence brought up something in her mind, and she stopped abruptly, frowning. Her head turned sharply to him, a calculating expression on her face.

Tony waited patiently for her to spit out whatever was bothering her – she seemed to be struggling with what words to use. "I… I must tell you something…" She started warily, and he raised his eyebrows – the endeavors that Gibbs would have his head for were now officially stopped. "We have- we have done this before. We were dating, I think, when our memories were erased."

He was starting to get a funny feeling that she just thought that bombshells were fun to drop.

"What now?" His dry mouth resembled that of a fish.

She nodded slowly, eyeing him, as if uneasy about his reaction. "When Harry came and we searched him, you… uh, you found a picture of him and his godson in his pocket. Teddy, I think it is his name. And…" Now the words were starting to rush out of her mouth, much like when she had a flashback and revisited the emotions of the actual happenings. "And we had just had an argument about something I do not even remember, and both our tempers were flying high-"

"Running high." He muttered, but she didn't even seem fazed by his correction, in the middle of her feverish rant.

"-and you pulled me away from everyone else and you just…" Her face was fully red as she stopped short from the end of her sentence. She finally turned to face him fully, even if avoiding his amused (now that the shock had worn off) eyes. "The point is: that is what I meant by the question I asked Hermione after I was done playing a baby the other day." Tony managed to distractedly roll his eyes at that. Only Ziva would nearly die, then cry bloody murder for having shown weakness.

Well, die, lose her mind, it was about the same to him. She'd be gone and that was unacceptable – pretty straight-forward.

"You told me that you… you wanted to have what you wanted." She said, stumbling over her words in hesitation. "So you did. I, uh… went home with you that night. And the wizards came the next day for the memories." He decided not to dwell on that subject, preferring to focus on her redness.

Then he remembered something else she'd said back in Jenny's office with Hermione, and he suddenly had an even better distraction. "So, that was the big thing that changed when Harry and Ron came?" He asked, smirking in delight at her. "Unbelievable. You just can't keep your hands off of me.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were still flaming a little, which just made his grin widen. "You are an idiot. Come on," She sighed, standing up. "we should join them again."


	18. Scrambled Fighting and All-knowing Ones

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

It was Ziva who ended up finding their connection between Ginny's kidnapping and that place. And it was, besides thoroughly disgusting, completely by chance.

"Gibbs?" She'd called suddenly and in poorly concealed queasiness, stopping in her tracks behind Tony and eyes trained on the ground. She didn't stumble back, but that appeared to have happened only with sheer will force. "M- Maybe you should take a look at this."

It turned out that Ziva's hawk-like gaze had spotted an eye.

Time out, stop, backtrack – say that again?

Ziva might have had kept her composure, but when Tony saw what she was looking at, he had no such qualms. He quickly put ten feet between himself and the blue orbit, encouraging Ziva to do the same by tugging on her jacket. The little, frankly gag-inducing thing was covered in dirt, as if it had been dug up – and quite recently, too.

Gibbs briskly walked to where they stood, Harry hot on his heels, and, when he spotted the eye, he said nothing, did nothing – just turned to the wizard for an explanation. Their boss was so used to it by now that he wasn't even feeling self-conscious about not holding all the cards in his hand.

One look at it, and Harry released such a colorful, inventing and completely confusing choice of swear words that Tony just stared for a few seconds in fascination, trying to absorb as much as he could.

Then he picked it up, Ron and Hermione's stormy scowls flanking him, and Tony saw McGee's complexion turn an unnatural shade of green.

"What is _that_?" Tony managed to demand in a half-commanding voice, watching Harry carefully wipe the eye clean with a piece of cloth he'd produced out of (where else) thin air.

Harry glowered at the ground the object had been found in. "It's Mad-Eye's eye." He ground out.

"Such a fitting name."

"I'm going to rephrase DiNozzo's question: what is it doing here, what's the story behind it, and how can it help us?" Gibbs growled, fed up with this waiting game. They should be trying to get Ginny by now, but apparently the reinforcements took a while. He was filled with pure annoyance, and he knew Harry was just as frustrated.

"I have no idea what it's doing here." Harry began, already walking off again and kicking some leafs into the air, making them hover slightly. "The last time I saw this, I was burying it next to a completely random tree in a completely random forest in a completely random act of respect."

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking off after her friend with Ron in tow. The MCRT was left to half-haphazardly catch up while Harry paced around with the air of someone who'd like to pull off all his hair. "It belonged to an old… mentor of ours. He passed away, and his body was desecrated." Hermione explained, looking sour and upset at the subject. "Harry took it upon himself to recover the only thing he could find and pay his respect by burying it properly." Her voice was saddened and sober by the end, and she took a moment before restarting. "We could maybe visit that tree Harry mentioned?" Hermione suggested, but her voice was unsure and half-hearted.

"Right. If only they hurried." Harry snapped, doing a three-sixty to briefly glare at his female friend. She huffed at him, crossing her arms and sitting down.

"But – an eye?" Tony prompted, both morbidly curious and aiming to deflate the serious mood (that didn't fit him at all).

"Sort of like your glass eyes. But it actually sees." For that answer, Tony was thankful he could no longer appreciate the sight of the thing.

"Right." The senior agent answered warily. "So-"

His sentence was cut off by a shrill shout from not so far away. "We're here! We're here! Sorry we're late, but you just can't Apparate up here with all this equipment. Why didn't you go down?" This was all said before the small group approaching them was within analyzing distance.

Tony was unsurprised to say that he recognized each and every one of them from the dinner party. Every single one of Ginny's brothers was there, and Audrey as well (according to what he remembered, Fleur and Angelina had both been pregnant, assuming his memories were all fine and dandy). Then there was Dennis and Luna, and Neville and Hannah (names he was very proud to remember), and they were all carrying backpacks. Big, heavy-looking backpacks.

"Why _didn't _we?" Harry turned quickly to Hermione, but he was already distributing the fastest greetings Tony had ever seen.

"Rest, remember?" She reminded him, with a characteristic extended amount of patience. Then she turned to the newcomers with a disproving expression. "I didn't know you'd be bringing so much, I thought Ron and I had brought enough. I imagined you'd be able to Apparate directly here! Now _you _are the ones tired." She was about to say something else, but Harry interrupted her harshly.

"Oh, no, we are so not waiting any longer. Let's _go_." And he Disapparated on the spot.

The rest of the group stood very still for about two seconds. "Oh, for Merlin's sake." Ron grabbed Gibbs (who was nearest) and followed his friend.

Hermione sighed in resignation. "Anyone with lighter package take one of the Muggles." And she pushed McGee toward Luna, stating the name of the forest they were supposed to be going to loud enough for everyone to hear. Luna smiled reassuringly at the nervous-looking McGee while Hemione instructed that they follow whichever clue Harry had left (she said she knew he'd leave a big one) to the right place. Without question, Luna nodded and left.

The same couldn't, however, be said for the others. "Why are we bringing Muggles with us?" George pointedly crossed his arms with a frown – he wasn't looking so cheerful anymore.

Tony was opening his mouth to reply when Hermione beat him to it with a haste and irritated retort. "Ask Harry. And, besides," She added, deflating at the look on Tony and Ziva's face. "they'll probably be plenty prepared for us, which we can't say for ourselves. Basically, they probably won't expect Muggles, so we're bringing them." She replied shortly.

Tony was growing pissed and impatient. They didn't know if the fight had started and they didn't have time to waste. The five that had gone already were back-up-less and Tony was less than pleased about it. One look at Ziva and he knew she shared the same thoughts.

Hermione shoved him toward George and he almost stumbled. "Here. Go!" She ordered.

And Tony's arm was grabbed, and, for the second time that day, he Apparated. It appeared as though he was different from most people – he was most definitely not getting used to the feeling.

After he dry-heaved and gagged and generally embarrassed himself in front of George, he was ushered through the green trees. He tripped on broken branches, trapped leaves in his shoes, gave an artistic make-over (the kind that involved lots of tears and stains) to a (very) good suit while on George's heels, who was following something apparently invisible to Tony.

"Why haven't the others caught up yet?" He managed to ask once they weren't in an area where the noise (animal or human – such as nearby factories or something of the sort - alike) made conversation impossible.

George glanced at him, and Tony was privately smug that he seemed to be taking the hike better than the wizard was. Maybe his kind really didn't rely much on physical exercise.

The one-eared man shook his head. "They wouldn't catch up. It'd be a hell of a coincidence if they Apparated to where we did. No one but the Trio knows where this place is – we just came to the forest, and it isn't like it's so small we'd end up all together. We're following Harry's lead to the right spot." He figured it was pointless to get an explanation to this invisible lead, so he just went with the flow and dutifully followed George's footsteps.

He eyed the backpack on George's back. "Isn't there a spell to shrink things, or make them lighter?" Tony asked, both because he was hardly one to keep silent and because he was actually curious.

George batted away a branch in front of his face with the ease of a Beater (it wasn't like it was unexpected that Tony would remember names like that, so he wasn't even gloating over it). "Because it's material from my joke shop." He answered, pushing away his derivative thoughts. "Spells don't tend to have the desired effect when you use them on these wonders."

He patted his bag affectionately, and Tony was almost reminded of his more normal behavior the previous night. The senior agent was also reminded of his personal oath (the kind of which was apparently a big thing for these people) to never, ever, touch anything even remotely resembling one of George's products.

It didn't take long, and suddenly they were bursting through some last bushes to the middle of a lot of people – or maybe the space was just too overcrowded. He immediately saw Harry, for the simple reason that the guy was practically growling in frustration from (obviously) not finding Ginny there. Everyone else was scattered as far from each other as they could (one foot, tops), frowning and contemplating the trees as if the plants would somehow spit out the red-hair.

Tony got a touch apprehensive. All this was leaving him uneasy, and he knew that, had Harry been paying more attention, been less distracted by his wife missing, the wizard would have been feeling the same foredoom.

Ziva was, obviously, the first to find him. Of course, she'd arrived first, because her 'ride' (Hermione) had a clearer idea of the place they were going to. They exchanged terse comments, too distracted and uneasy for more, hands dropped would-be-casually on their holsters.

He spotted Gibbs, tight-lipped (the Boss' gut was never wrong when he was scowling like that, and Tony didn't take comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone in his worry) near McGee. Good, that made sure they were partnered with people they knew how to deal with.

With a pang, Tony suddenly remembered everyone back at the Yard – they'd taken off without a word of explanation and he only hoped they'd assume another crime scene. Unless, of course, Jenny decided to reveal that they currently had no case, and cause the mass panic on everyone else – a mass panic that the director was very likely already feeling.

This was going great, really. Now to deal with the psychotic death eating bad guys (and that was just disgusting) and this day would surely end on a positive note.

Tony had that last thought, and then all hell broke loose.

Somehow, there apparently _was _room for more people, because they were startled by the appearance of God-knew how many (Tony hardly cared to count) hooded figures. Without any warning or sound whatsoever, lights - of every available color of the rainbow - began almost automatically flying over all their heads, and the Muggles could only duck.

The fluidity the wizards attacked with told Tony that this was not the first time they had ever fought, and it was not the first time they had ever fought together. It reminded him of his own team, when they found themselves in dangerous situations, and he slowly began to understand what it was, exactly, that Harry had meant with the word 'war'.

It was stupidity, but also instinct, that made Tony's sidearm whip out, but he corrected that mistake quickly when he realized that Ziva hadn't been quite that idiotic.

For her part, his partner could barely hide her annoyance at his blatant lack of thinking. Guns were pointless (she'd discovered that the hard way) and she had knocked out two wizards before Tony managed to holster the weapon and get himself fighting-ready.

Where they were, there hadn't appeared many enemies (which probably meant that they'd been watching and considered the Muggles a very minor threat – maybe not so much anymore, though) so Ziva took a very brief moment to analyze her surroundings.

She had trouble understanding how anyone could fight, trapped between everyone else like this – right up until someone blew up a handful of trees to her right and the space was suddenly doubled. They were still packed like sardines, but at least they could actually take a step now.

That was also the moment when she realized that magic could do a hell of a lot more damage than knock out or petrifying someone.

Her movements became a lot more careful around the attractive and bright flashes of light then. But that didn't make much of a bummer in the Israeli's actions. As if a silent and invisible snake, she and Tony began taking out every opponent they came about, and they, so obviously it was painful, were not prepared for the kind of fight the Muggles put up. So they'd fall, rather embarrassingly quickly.

But luck tends, however, to grow old, and her first real scare happened very soon, and it was when Tony had the audacity to get hit.

Obviously, he did not get hit with anything dangerous, because that would require amounts of red-tainted rage from her that were common currency in the days of Mossad, but which she had not used in quite a long time. Tony would not allow her to revert to the person she used to be, and so he didn't dare get badly injured – she knew he cared too much about her to do that. Such was a very logical argument.

His lower leg suffered some sort of physical wound. The light that was used to perform it was different too. Like a whip, it slashed down and then dissipated as if it had never existed. It was directed at Luna, who managed to deflect the majority of the attack from hitting her or anyone else. Unfortunately, that was not before the tip of it collided with her partner.

She could see the damage that such a small bit of the spell had done. Tony's pants were ripped, and his skin had to have been cut, unless the red liquid soaking his pants was something other than blood.

He staggered slightly, and that was when she made use of her legs to both take care of her current opponent and hurry to her partner's side.

"Well, that hurt." He gasped slightly, breathing raggedly against the pain. He tested his leg, and winced when it throbbed at the pressure the ground put on it. "Damn." He cursed in a low voice, watching as Ziva single-handedly disposed of anyone approaching the two of them. "You know, sometimes I wonder why you need a partner." He commented, forcing his voice to sound natural (so that Ziva's worries could be falsely soothed) and trying to introduce some sort of comic relief to his surroundings.

His partner's glare told him he was unsuccessful, but by then he was already hurrying to take care of the bleeding. He crouched, eager to leave his partner's back unprotected for the shortest amount of time possible. "I do too. But your stupidity actually happens to be an excellent source of amusement." She told him casually – too much so, for a woman that was dancing around wizards, by dodging, kicking, punching and jumping - while her attackers barely knew what they were fighting against.

Tony eyed the now exposed wound, not without a certain amount of sharpness, cringing a little at the cut-open flesh and ignoring the pain-induced waves of nausea while he was at it. "Well, on the bright side, I really don't think this is getting infected." The slash was totally clean – he guessed a beam of light wasn't much of a disease-carrier. "My stupidity seems to be going nowhere." He reassured her.

His tie served as a make-shift tourniquet and the scarf Ziva threw him became his bandage. He tucked it all as nice and neatly as he could, but he knew he hadn't made a very good job. He just hoped it didn't undo itself before the end of this… he supposed he ought to be calling it a fight, even if the first thing that came to mind at flying lights was 'Fourth of July' and not 'battle to the death'.

The stain was still on his clothes when he stood up, and that, combined with the light limp, didn't do much to make him forget the pain.

Nor did it make Ziva keep her mind from it either. And if the responsible party hadn't already been unconscious by then, Ziva knew Gibbs would have wanted a shot at the guy too. Even if serving only as a scare, since she knew everyone was perfectly aware Tony could handle himself.

"Are you okay?" She knew he wasn't, but it was obligation to ask anyway. She suspiciously inspected his harried work, untrusting of it.

"Just fine." He produced a grin at her, and though she knew he wasn't, she also knew he could handle himself fighting for a couple more hours. She frowned. She hoped this didn't take that long.

And they were back up punching and kicking, but Tony made sure his movements were a little slower, and Ziva made sure she stayed that little bit closer to her partner.

In the end, the good guys ended up with the upper hand. The whole thing was too spread out and too confusing for Ziva to recount everything that had happened everywhere, but she did know one thing: adversaries not fighting wizards went down much faster than their comrades. Of course, that changed quickly – they were idiots but not quite that much. Eventually they realized that, while a minor and reduced threat, the Muggles were an unknown one, and that gave them an advantage they weren't prepared to deal with.

So they'd swarmed the four team members in no time, and Ziva was apprehensive because, despite her best efforts, she'd been quickly and efficiently separated from her partner. She couldn't even see him anymore, and the wariness at that fact offered her attacks a hurried viciousness that she disliked because of how unguarded that made her feel. Like there was a part of her outside of her body and beyond her layer of protection.

If Tony ever found out what went through her head sometimes…

Regardless, the fight took less time than the wizards were obviously expecting. But the MCRT were the ones panting as soon as it ended. They regrouped, and, from Ziva's keen point of view, they weren't the cleanest bunch. She saw Gibbs staring at Tony's injured leg, but before she could give an excuse as to why she had let her partner get hurt, Tony had played it off with a patented joke - business as usual.

"Well…" McGee wheezed, all but smacking a hand to his forehead to wipe the sweat from it, and preventing Tony from receiving the impending Gibbs-glare. "That went well."

There were limp, battered bodies all around them. Some of them, Ziva was perfectly aware, didn't even fit the unconscious category, but she chose not to dwell on that. The two that Gibbs had determined to be the leaders were being held up by the scruff of their necks, and their wands were broken on the ground. They were withering rather pathetically in the Boss' grip, and Ziva almost rolled her eyes at the display. Her fondness for magic practitioners had hardly improved – but then, she did deal mostly with the scum of the Earth every day, so she knew that the example of some was not the rule for all.

Harry approached Gibbs, ignoring everyone else. He glared as hard as he could at the two guys still in speaking condition, and they glared right back. But Ziva was trained by Mossad, and Mossad knew how to read fear in people's eyes. The two Death-Eater-wannabes were scared out of their senses, and it was showing. If she had any doubts about whether Harry had told the truth about his doings, they were gone now.

"Where is she?" His lips barely moved, but Ziva didn't wonder if there was anyone who hadn't heard.

The two idiots made the unwise decision of keeping quiet, and Harry wasn't in the mood for games, so one of them was howling in no time.

Harry conceded to repeating himself, stepping back from the guy. "I'm going to ask again – where-is-she?" He punctuated each word with a carefully produced glower, speaking up now, and directing his words to the two. Even with a now openly terrified face, they still stayed silent (maybe because they felt that now that Harry was a foot away, they were free from danger – they was smart like that).

Harry barely took a menacing step before the one he'd hit gave up. "Okay, _okay_!" He yelped, scooting away as much as he could in Gibbs' firm grasp. "There's an old building over there-" He pointed in a vague direction and Harry, unwilling to wait until he finished, took off, with Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville hot on his heels. Apparently, those four were the only ones who understood exactly how their black-haired friend's mind worked, because the other little group of others that was supposed to go with them took a while longer to snap into motion.

When they were gone, Gibbs' face leaned forward to be at eye-level with the one who'd spoken (the guy immediately leaned back in disgust – maybe Gibbs was making him see how much grime his face was covered in) and their boss spoke slowly and with red-light danger written all over his face. "I reallyhope you didn't lie; because we _Muggles_ - without magic to do the kind of torture that you decided to use on my agent -" Gibbs' hand visibly tightened in a zone that was too close to the guy's neck for comfort. "found other, interesting and creative ways to make people suffer."

Both Ziva's and Tony's heads snapped in alarm to their grimacing young coworker. He shrugged uncomfortably under their scrutinizing stares, muttering that he was fine. He did seem okay, but Ziva's glare intensified a tiny but on the pathetic excuse for a man on Gibbs' hand.

There was blissful silence for a while, while they edgily waited for everyone to return, and Ziva only pitied that the fact that the two men were still up and about marred it.

"What the bloody hell did you tell them where it was for?" The other one snapped suddenly, and every head turned to him. It was completely random, and the Israeli wondered if she ought to add 'mentally lacking' to the list of attributes she had for him. Ziva guessed that this behavior had a purpose, which was simply to irk them.

Wrong choice, if you were under Gibbs' glare already. The guy was ignoring their boss as best as he could, acting as though he was completely unfazed by the Muggles holding them.

The other one glanced from Gibbs' raised eyebrows to his partner's face, and then made an expression that told Ziva that he was playing along with his fellow genius friend. Now that Harry was gone, he was feeling, apparently, braver.

He straightened, and Ziva had a hard time not commenting on how ridiculous that movement looked in his current position. "It's not my fault." How he figured that, Ziva would never know – even if she wasn't particularly complaining, he _had _been the one to let the cat out of the bag. "_I_ told you we should have taken the Muggle chit too!" His retort was pompous and he even managed to throw a nasty glance in her direction.

They were young, alright (the way that they'd gone from scared witless to provocative could only be associated with young idiocy) and they also had no idea what was coming.

His eyes rolled backwards and he fell, passed out, when the butt of Tony's gun hit the back of his head. Ziva had not noticed him walking toward Gibbs, but now her partner was standing right beside his boss, dark expression hardly conveying positive thoughts.

"Sorry about that." The senior agent said flatly, letting the limp body drop right in front of him without a spare look. "My bad."

Gibbs was visibly containing a smile. "Don't worry about it. It happens." Their boss said mildly, patting the other one's cheek with excessive force. The only guy left awake didn't say another word.

"I thought it was illegal for you to treat suspects like that, you know." Rolf Scamander commented, hardly making a move to stop them. Ziva recognized him from when she'd picked Mary up (much to the little girl's pouting disappointment) from the grass at the Burrow to go home (she chose not to think too much about how easily that word slipped in reference to Tony's apartment) and Luna's husband had introduced himself.

Gibbs crossed his arms, and Tony, of course, offered the witty comeback. "It's too bad no one from this side of the Mississippi will remember they ever existed, huh?"

"I did notice you didn't seem to be too bothered with being careful with, you know, the suspects' lives, lately." Harry was back, and his mood appeared to be too.

And he was almost swarmed. He and Ron were holding Ginny between them, even if she was protesting loudly how fine she was. The smile she directed at the party assembled there was a little fake, and Ziva was suddenly sharply aware of how exhausted the red-haired woman must've been. "Hey, you lot." She greeted.

Questions were fired, but the NCIS team kept silent, patiently waiting in the background for the woman to be interrogated so that they could go home.

But then Harry approached them, leaving Ginny to be mobbed by the rest of her family for a second - and it was Gibbs' turn for answers. "Anybody there?" He started with.

Harry shook his head. "No, just a couple body guards. Bill, Charlie, Percy and George put them next to the others. Ministry should come to take care of this mess soon, and then we can go." He promised.

"The place?" Gibbs chose to move on to the next question instead of wasting time on pleasantries.

Harry sighed, looking tired and as eager to leave as them. "It was a poor excuse for a building. They decided to it set up in the middle of the forest that they discovered the eye in." He rubbed his face. "I get the feeling that they're not particularly smart."

"How _did_ they find the eye?" McGee spoke up, looking a little more exhausted than strictly necessary. Ziva frowned at him in concern, remembering what Gibbs had said about torture.

"Still working on that."

"And why can't we help?" Tony asked the question Gibbs was silently yelling.

Harry shrugged, ruffling up his hair as one of his hands ran through it. "Not exactly a Muggle kind of investigation." He pointed out, and they all, including Gibbs, gave up.

"Work faster, then. I don't like loose ends." And that was probably the last thing Gibbs would say in this conversation.

Harry nodded, and then scrutinized each and every one of them critically. His eyes lingered on Tony's bloody leg and frowned at Tim's strained expression. He hesitated before speaking quietly. "Thank you. For today. You probably took down half of them."

"You're, uh, welcome." The senior agent stammered, a rather unwilling participant in that conversation, but knowing that Gibbs would say nothing and Tony probably should instead.

A hint of a smile tugged Harry's lips up, and that was when a bunch of _pops_ the MCRT had come to dread was heard from somewhere to their right. More people (Tony was unaware the forest could take any more) appeared, cloaks, wands, the whole shebang. They all immediately stiffened, but Harry reassured them that these visits, at least, they were expecting.

Once he'd spoken to the Ministry officials, who were eyeing the Muggles critically, much to Ziva's indignation, Harry carted the team off to join the group gathered around here, and they didn't exactly object, because, in Gibbs' words, 'politics are bad enough on paper'.

Between them, Harry, Hermione and Ron managed to bring the four of them back to the bullpen (Tony was actually surprised they'd been willing to separate from Ginny, but he guessed that they were grateful enough to spare a little amount of time) where, (un)surprisingly, no one noticed seven people appearing out of thin air. The MCRT did, however, very much notice, if their dry-heaving was any indicator.

Either completely ignoring or oblivious to their discomfort, Harry was pausing, refraining from leaving just yet. "I… I have just one more favor to ask." He said slowly.

That was how, a couple of hours later, Ducky found himself with a very annoyed Ginny in his autopsy room, while he gave her a check-over. Jenny appeared somewhere in the middle of it, and Harry explained to her that he didn't really want to go to a hospital and go through all that explanation mess, so he'd asked Ducky for this. The director wasn't particularly thrilled, but she presented no audible or visible objection, and she decided to stay back.

That didn't last very long though. Even as Tony watched from his position against the farthest wall, Gibbs gave the woman a penetrating stare, and, with a muffled sigh and possible curse, Jenny followed their boss through the doors sliding open. They closed behind them (though not before Gibbs left strict orders for Ducky not to allow Tony to leave that room before he had checked out his leg, because Tony had used the same excuse as Ginny not to go to Bethesda), leaving the room ringing with Ducky's stories and Ginny's decreasingly tight face. Tony thought she even grinned once.

Harry, now the only other person in the room, bounded, with a lot more cheer than before in his step, over to his shadowed corner. "Where are your teammates?" He questioned, imitating his stance to his right.

Tony glanced at him in acknowledgement. "Abby's lab. Officially, Ziva went to check on Mary and dragged McGee along. Unofficially, she took McGee to the lab so that Abby can make him go to sleep." Tony grinned slightly. "She's playing mother hen." The smile faltered, and Tony realized that, in order to avoid thinking about the things harassing his mind, that was a rather poor choice of words.

Harry looked at him at the senior agent's sudden frown, not needing a wild imagination to have a vague idea of what was going on in his mind. "Taking the opportunity?" He asked lightly, repeating the words of a couple of days previously.

Tony didn't ask how Harry knew what was going on in his mind at that moment, and he didn't ask how he'd known that Tony would be pondering adopting Mary back when Tony didn't know it himself. He just assumed that he knew, and, for some reason, he felt comfortable discussing this with him.

"It's just…" He hesitated, pondering the words he wanted to say and feeling guilty about thinking them. "I've been so wrapped up in the- positive aspects of that idea, that the potential issues about it slipped my mind so far." Tony grimaced at Harry in anticipated apology for his next words. "Ginny could've died today. I really don't want that to be me or Ziva, and then leave a kid who just needs some stability in her life. Again." He added as an after-thought, referring to the fact that that same stability had just been stolen from Mary.

He didn't actually say the word adoption, but he knew that Harry knew what he meant.

The wizard tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, playing with the hem of his shirt (Tony wondered if it was a glamour of some sort – he was pretty sure he'd seen the young man wear a robe at some point that day). "I'm not going to lie to you." He finally announced, and Tony got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what the wizard was going to say. "It's not easy, and mark those words. Sometimes, I stay awake at night with living nightmares plaguing my brain."

There was silence for a while, seemingly Harry patiently awaiting Tony to digest that. The senior agent's head whirled, but he decided to stick with the main questioning to reduce the headache.

"How do you fix it?"

He'd asked the right question, apparently – unless Harry grinned for no reason. Well, as a matter of fact, Tony could picture things that were more unbelievable than that…

The wizard sobered, noting Tony's less-than-light expression. "I reach to my side and Ginny's right there." Harry shrugged. "You just need your partner." And he walked off to give his wife his hand as she plopped down from the table, Tony staring after him.

Harry did seem to have this annoying habit of always being right, even if he made everything sound so easy.


	19. Fine Lines and Unanswered Questions

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"You could have told me where you were going this morning." Jenny commented, realizing Gibbs wasn't about to speak first, even if he'd been the one dragging her there - you know, to her personal office.

A blank stare and his crossed arms were her answer, and she sat down with a sigh.

She still didn't know what it was that he wanted, so she patiently began ignoring him in favor of paperwork. Well - maybe she _did _know what he wanted, and just didn't care to acknowledge it.

He returned her silence right back, and, unfortunately, he was also slightly better at these kind of mind games than she was. Her glasses hit her chest, dangling from her neck, and she huffed in frustration, glaring at her ex-partner. He let the mask on his face slip off for a moment, smirking annoyingly in the knowledge that he'd won.

"What do you want, Jethro?" She asked stiffly, unprepared to deal with any anger that he'd surely direct at her after the week's events.

"Well, now that you mention it-" He started, totally ready to be as bothersome as he could.

"I swear to God, Gibbs," She interrupted harshly, too flustered to bother with his first name. "I will take a leaf out of Ziva's book, and I _will_ be practical in getting a murder weapon." She threatened, fighting the blush that she could feel creeping toward her face.

He raised one eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips but not quite there. "What I was trying to say, _Director_, was that I wanted you to provide David and DiNozzo with the inner-office dating paperwork."

Her thoughts changed swiftly, and her head (previously avoiding his gaze in a meticulous manner) snapped to him in surprise. "They actually did something? Well, no, let me rephrase that;" She corrected herself, noting how his face was still carefully expressionless. "you actually let them do something and they told you about it?"

His lips twitched, and he leaned against her desk, and _finally_, the mood was more relaxed. "They'll get an earful." He promised. "And who says I let them?"

"The fact that you're requesting for the paperwork for them?" She questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Part of my job."

"Okay, then the fact that they're still breathing." She offered.

"Says who?" He retorted smartly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Who says they're still breathing?" He expanded.

She recovered quickly. "The fact that you don't like jail, but do like your job."

"I'll give you that." He conceded defeat.

Jenny grinned - she'd missed these exchanges for the couple of days Gibbs had been avoiding her. Her smile dimmed. She still didn't know what she was supposed to do about that particular subject yet.

Gibbs had smirked back a little, oblivious to the thoughts tormenting her. She still remembered those half-smiles (among many other, less innocent things) from Paris. It triggered nostalgia and a bunch of other emotions in her that she was very much unprepared to deal with. So she looked away, taking the easiest way out, and avoided thinking about it. That usually worked.

Gibbs cleared his throat with a strange look on his face. Apparently he wasn't as oblivious as he let on. "Either way - the extra red-tape should be good punishment."

Jenny took the outing like a life-line. "You're going to let it slide with only forms and a slap on the wrist?" She inquired, leaning back and eyeing him suspiciously.

The corner of his lip twitched. "It's almost as if you don't know me, Jen." He commented in mock-disappointment. Her face sobered him up - somewhat. "I can assure you one thing: David isn't going to take any maternity leaves in the near future. Not unless she locks herself somewhere with DiNozzo during the late nights I'll be making them have."

Jenny grimaced at the idea, but still wasn't convinced. "Still sounds a little bland for you, Jethro." She insisted, resolute.

"Never said that was it." He stated casually, and Jenny was reminded of a lion ready to pounce. Her pointed look told him to get on with it, but he just smirked. "Maybe you don't really want to hear the rest." And maybe she really didn't.

She changed the subject then. "Fine. Now how about you tell me how Tony got hurt?"

And the next hour was spent with them comfortably discussing the fight that Gibbs mildly put as vaguely entertaining, and pointedly avoiding talking about the issue that was just begging to be brought up. Jenny wanted to hit Gibbs a couple of times (okay, she got it already - he was cool and collected, but next time he bragged of dodging a decapitating hex, he could at least not purposefully yawn), and the rest of those times she felt like biting off her nails out of guilt - some of the things he described were uncannily alike to the situation she'd witnessed herself a few months back. The burning look in his eyes didn't help, and she felt a little short of miserable.

Eventually, her best team leader found a chair to tip back on, dangerously close to topple it back and hit his head on the floor. Since her concern would hardly be appreciated, she kept her mouth shut about it and asked him more about Tim being cursed instead. Gibbs' eyes immediately darkened at that and she kind of wished she'd kept quiet.

"All I know is that they struck him with some red light." He was unwelcome of the subject, if his expression was anything to go by. "He wouldn't say anything else."

With some gingerly applied prodding, he ended up telling her that the word used for the curse was 'Crucio' and that that would be about the only word he'd remember about spells. He justified that with the simple sentence that 'she should have been there to hear McGee' and thatthen she'd keep it in mind too. That conversation obviously ended there.

And then the conversation abruptly took a turn to the thing they were avoiding speaking about. And it was totally Gibbs' fault.

"Not my fault" He'd started. "that they wanted to keep away from me. I'm guessing they think they're still keeping it a secret." He'd been referring to Tony and Ziva's dating, which Gibbs considered that they believed was still being kept in the dark.

"So you separated into pairs?" Jenny had asked with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't seem very smart, in light of an unknown threat." Her tone had been blunt and to the point, hence Gibbs' grinning approval.

"Done that plenty of times before, Jen." He reminded her. "No different."

She fingered absent-mindedly the burned spot on her table-top – a souvenir from last January that the wizards hadn't noticed on their way out. "Don't you think that this time it was a _little_ different?" She inquired, sharp voice intending to avoid the feeling attempting to spill over. She remembered – too vividly – the scene that had left that mark on her desk, and she was tempted to tell Gibbs just how different this situation was, by revealing a couple of things he would surely dislike.

She had too much fondness for life in her still, though.

"No." He'd stated calmly, crossing his arms and – somehow – still balancing that chair.

"How's so?" She'd practically growled, knuckles whitening on the wood. He'd raised an eyebrow at her sudden hostility, but consciously riled her up further by shrugging.

And then he'd taken the very open opportunity. She'd been stupid to let herself be strung along like that, but Gibbs had always held the power to make her go, blind and lacking the gift of thought, wherever he wanted her to go. Without her say in it.

"'Cause you already knew all about it, Jen. And if there was anything we'd needed to know, you'd have told us. Right?" The quiet question had been about a little more than whatever information she had on their latest bad guy.

And that was how they found themselves ripped of all the previous easy talk, and right back to the elephant in the room. The space around them lost ten degrees, and their statements were holding a tad more meaning than before. The silence that followed was a direct result of just that – words were a lot heavier in weight now, and they both needed more quiet time to think of what to say next.

She was the one to speak first. "Of course I would have." Her thinned lips promised otherwise. "Unless it was sensitive, Government-level intel, disclosed only to those whose knowledge of it was strictly necessary. You know, kept _under wraps_ for being an _international secret_." She snapped, noting with displeasure how annoyance flashed in his eyes briefly at her answer. He'd expected her to backtrack, apologize, whatever – so she felt guilty about not doing it. But that was what he wanted, so she steeled herself and glared. "Was it like that, Jethro?"

He gave her a stare as an answer. How atypical of him.

She avoided his eyes and then felt furious about it, but still refused to hold his gaze. If it was a choice between swallowing her pride and Gibbs' disappointment, she'd just have to find some water to help herego down.

"Maybe." He finally answered. "But I think you would have still told us, since you'd have been more preoccupied with our safety than your job. Wouldn't you, Director?" The frosty tone with which he said her title made her teeth clench.

She looked up at him for the first time to give him a hurt look. She hoped that that fact helped him with understanding the honesty of her next words. "No, I wouldn't have." His narrowed eyes made her legs tense, as if ready to help her flee should he attack – which was looking like a very immediate possibility. "I would, however, have made every effort to make sure your safeties were not anywhere near compromised, if by other means." She made it very clear, and Gibbs seemed to get it.

But it still didn't mean he liked it. "Glad to hear it." But his stiff tone told her the matter was still unresolved, and, for once, she refused to let him leave her presence without handling it properly like two adults should.

"Jethro," She sighed warily, already frustrated with the subject. "I had no choice."

Before she even had a chance to open her mouth to continue, he was interrupting. "Yeah, you did." He told her matter-of-factly, looking like he had such faith in that statement that she almost believed it too.

"No, I didn't." She told him, the fierceness both to convince herself and the man before her. "And I know you're hurt-"

"Jen…" He warned.

She rolled her eyes weakly. "_Fine_. I know you're not _agreeable _about it," The way she drawled out the word was to make a point that she was sure he got. "but I don't care." She informed him flat-out. "I can't just go on _your_ whim and follow what _you_ want just because that's the only option you agree on. I'm sorry, but the people way upstairs outrank you just a little."

"They don't outrank my team's lives." He told her sharply, reminding her in no uncertain terms of what was right and what was wrong.

She ran a hand through her hair, straining to keep herself composed. "Even if I strongly tend to agree with you, orders are orders, Jethro. I know that you're used to a free reign, but there are some things you can't make a joke of." She warned him, bracing herself for the onslaught surely coming.

"I don't make a joke of my job, Jen."

"That's not what I meant, and you know that."

Silence. Of course, because how else did Gibbs communicate if not through quiet?

Well, at least he was still glaring at her. That had to count for something, didn't it?

She couldn't take it anymore. Her country told her to keep quiet, her… friend pushed her to talk, and she was being forced to take a side. This wasn't alright, and it wasn't fair, even if that made her sound petulant. She refused to choose between two sides, and, unfortunately, Gibbs was there to take the brunt of it.

She snapped completely, and in a thoroughly improper way for the director of NCIS. "What do you want from me, Jethro?" Her voice was too high, and she was sure there were tears threatening to spill behind her eyelids. "What was I supposed to do? You've been harassing me like I wouldn't believe for not having said anything, but you put yourself in my position. You're berating me for hiding something that wasn't mine to hide. How is that right?"

He didn't seem too shocked to see her on the edge – or maybe he was too good at hiding it. Either way, he sighed and occupied a chair in front of her desk. "Jen-" He began warily, and because he was Gibbs, who didn't say much, maybe she shouldn't have interrupted his few words, but she was suddenly so incredibly tired, and so incredibly emotionally drained that she just didn't care, and she was on a roll, and Gibbs just wasn't enough to stop her.

"No!" She hissed sharply, struggling not to break apart at the seams. "You do not get to speak right now!" She was almost whining, but she'd forgotten how to feel embarrassed about it. "You don't get it. And I'm not going to explain. I'm sorry, but, if you weren't affected by it, then I had no business telling you a thing. Whether that makes you feel betrayed or not."

Oh, he got it very well. The last time he'd seen her face so red was when she'd been physically strained, and even then, it wasn't like this. She was the Director now – she couldn't afford to be so vulnerable or so fragile in her position. He'd never seen her like this, and he'd seen her facing worse (in his opinion) adversaries than the team leader's disappointment.

He observed her silently and blankly as she composed herself. Her tears dried, her breaths evened out and the NCIS Director emerged again. She almost looked ready to apologize for her behavior, but, before she had the chance, his voice overruled any other sound (existing or potential).

"You know, you take too long to get things off your chest." He commented. Her face was rather worth it, but he sobered up enough not to make her lose it again. "I don't blame you, Jenny. Which is why you shouldn't blame yourself." He raised his eyebrows at her dumbstruck expression.

"You-" She choked on the rest. "You did all this just so that I'd lash out at you?" She managed to stutter, not quite out of her shock enough to glower yet.

"No." He informed her unflinchingly."I did it so that you could get all that pent-up rage out."

She thought of a lot of different things to do and/or say. A couple of times, she even opened her mouth or lifted her arms (sometimes to reach for her stashed weapon, sometimes to reach for a paperclip). But she found herself exhausted by blue eyes and unable to complete the motions. It was just… she couldn't find a word that fit. Much like her mouth, her mind was unable to come up with anything fitting to phrase. "You make me tired. _So _ tired to even glare at you." Was all she could get out.

He almost grinned, but changed the subject before that. "I'm not saying I approve of a single thing you've done in this whole mess." He cautioned her, letting a darker look fill his expression briefly. "But I often don't agree with orders from above anyway."

Call her crazy, but that sentence was the one thing, of all of his speech, that soothed her in any way. He was telling her that he understood that the decision hadn't come from her, that he got that she had to follow orders – it was Gibbs' indirect manner of forgiving her, and she was grateful for it.

And, all of a sudden, the two of them were back to normal. He was teasing her, she was giving him short retorts that she hoped didn't portray the amusement she actually felt, and they were right back to where they had been, as if that week had been magically erased. She'd been dreading this confrontation with such force that, now that it was over, she almost felt like laughing at her foredoom – although, she _was_ one to cry victory before things were over.

Gibbs was only part one. She had yet to speak to the rest of her team, her coworkers and friends, and she wasn't looking forward to it. So, determined to attain a if-you-don't-think-about-it-it'll-go-away attitude, she laughed at the right moment at something Gibbs said and kept her mind forcefully oblivious.

"Ducky! Ducky!"

The old man barely had time to turn before Abby body-slammed into him, and he somehow managing to keep the two of them standing. Jimmy, beside him, jerked his hands around as if about to do something to help, but unsure of what. For an assistant, he had a little trouble with the whole 'assisting' part.

Huffing out a breath, Ducky steadied himself without either of the younger people's help, and, unable to upset Abby, he contented himself with an annoyed glance toward Jimmy, who grimaced in response. Well, at least his assistance could correctly identify when the M.E. was glaring at him. If only he could apply that to the rest of the world, he'd be golden.

It took a while to realize Abby was hugging him, and, by then, Ducky was only able to deliver some half-hearted pats to the Goth's back before she pulled back and it was Jimmy's turn to be crushed.

"Abigail, if I may ask," Ducky frowned at the girl, noting how slightly red and puffy her eyes were. Jimmy was wide-eyed, hugging her back as non-awkwardly as he could. "what are you doing?"

"I'm giving everyone a hug." She answered resolutely, glaring at nothing in particular and piggy-tails bouncing when her head bobbed around between the two men. "And I started with you."

Her words reverberated in the silent space of the Autopsy room, and Ducky warily eyed her with apprehension. "What's wrong, Abby?" He asked with the keen eye of an experienced profiler.

"Everything!" She cried, flinging her arms up. "Ziva just told me Tony and Tim got hurt and now she's with Tony, but McGee keeps making up excuses not to speak with me, and he's with Mary, and I'm not supposed to yell when she's around, so I can't be mad at him, and-"

"Abby!" Ducky interrupted her rant before she had time to start pacing. She turned to him with a terrified expression, as if he had all the answers, and the old man felt his gaze softening at the fear she was showing. "Breathe." He advised gently, approaching the two younger people to put a hand on her shoulder. She was still clutching Palmer's arm with an amount of force already making him wince.

His touch seemed to help, and Palmer exhaled a relieved breath when the constriction on his arm loosened and disappeared. But there were still tears in her eyes, and since he'd made her lose the anger, the despair was showing a little more clearly.

Ducky hadn't stopped since a glowering woman had been brought to him, and he'd been demanded to examine her. He'd have felt less bothered about it if she hadn't made his every move more difficult, hence forcing him to tire himself with distracting her.

Then Gibbs had told him to take a look at Tony's leg. Then he'd said to check out McGee, but the young man had already slipped out, leaving Gibbs to burn a glare into the door. Then, when all was done, Ducky had, along with Jimmy, taken a moment to grab something to eat, and had just returned. Needless to say, they were both very eager to go home and forget all about those last nightmarish few days.

Right now he was thoroughly exhausted, and so he wasn't able to think up anything to help Abby.

"Abigail," He called gently, once he felt that her breathing had evened out enough for it to be safe. "let's go speak with Timothy, shall we?" And he led her, shushing her protests about Mary, to the elevator.

Once they got to the bullpen, Ducky didn't even say anything – he just walked right up, grabbed Mary's hand, and walked off with Jimmy dutifully in tow. The little girl kept throwing confused glances between Ducky and McGee, who was a little stiffly staring at Abby. She hadn't moved from the entrance of the bullpen, and her stance was intimidating to those who knew her – hands on her hips, narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.

Ducky was planning and to take Mary to Gibbs, because handling a little girl on his own was something he wasn't used to (even if he'd never admit aloud to needing help with it).

Additionally, however, he had absolutely no intention of witnessing the following confrontation.

Jimmy glanced nervously from Mary to his mentor inside the elevator. Clearing his throat with the intention of diverting the silent awkwardness, he fixed his glasses before speaking. "Do you think he'll be okay, doctor?"

Ducky was not completely sure if his assistant meant the torture McGee had been submitted to, or whatever the Goth (that the M.E. and his trainee had left him with) would do. "I don't know, Mr. Palmer. We shall wait and see." He shrugged, stepping out of the elevator with Mary in tow.

She no longer looked like she was a fish out of the water in the NCIS HQ, but more fascinated about everything there. She was even almost completely relaxed around the people from the team whom she'd met, and Ducky was glad she was feeling better. Then again, the experience of wandering around a federal building probably served as a good distraction.

Jimmy hurriedly followed the two. "Er… Doctor? Should we, uh… go home?" He was hesitant, but the question was valid – it was past the end of the work day, and while that had never been exactly of any major importance, due to their close association with the MCRT (or, more specifically, Gibbs), it was late, and the day hadn't been particularly light.

Because of what was known around the building simply as 'Gibbs' team's secret assignment', other teams had been landed with what would usually be MCRT's cases throughout the day. That had meant extra work, since, besides not having Gibbs' ability to know when to go get results from the analysts, they needed more from said analysts to make up for the lesser police work (though that assumption could simply derivate from the fact that Ducky was used to the MCRT's excellency in these types of cases).

All that, combined to the obvious reasons, meant it had been a particularly exhausting twenty-four hours, and the four agents hadn't helped when they had disappeared without so much as a 'we're going to Vegas to elope'. Ducky definitely wanted to go home as much as Palmer.

"Let's wait for Anthony, Jethro or Ziva, shall we Mr. Palmer?" Ducky answered tightly, warily trying not to snap because of his (currently) short temper. "Unless you'd like to take an eight-year-old with you." He reminded him, gesturing to the little girl, who was, bright and wide-eyed, looking at pictures of the inside of a corpse, left lying half-haphazardly on the M.E.'s desk when Gibbs had stormed into Autopsy with a group of sheepish-looking people in tow.

Ducky hurried to stuff them into a random drawer, mustering a forceful smile at the guilty-looking little girl. "Don't worry about it." He reassured her, noting how she was looking shyly up at him, hands behind her back. "Curiosity is not a sin."

"But it killed the cat." She completed his meant-to-be-finished sentence. Ducky's lips curved up and he accessed her with a more attentive eye. She was an impressively intelligent child, and he was enjoying her company more and more. He could see why she'd made such an impression on Gibbs' team.

Jimmy was staring a little as Mary wandered around staring at nothing and everything. "I guess I understand why Tony got so attached to her." He pondered. Ducky thought of how fast news travelled in the building.

The older man tilted his head in agreement while he sat on his chair, approving of Palmer's train of thought. "Yes. She is quite an interesting child." He paused, mind bringing up images of Tony's pensive behavior as of late. "And I think Anthony is already aware of it."

Abby's stance was beginning to more than unnerve McGee. Now that Mary was gone, he didn't have the excuse of babysitting the little girl as a protection, or as a reason not to speak with the forensic scientist.

God knew what Tony and Ziva were doing at the moment (he was blissfully unaware, taking full advantage of the whole plausible deniability package) and, given the chance, he had eagerly offered to take Mary off Abby's hands, when Ziva had led him to the lab. He'd brought her to the precinct with him before Abby could open her mouth in protest, relishing that his companion was an oblivious little girl who wouldn't ask him questions he didn't want to answer, preferring to munch on cookies and make drawings in the quiet that he needed and she appreciated.

But now, there was no eight-year-old-shaped shield in front of him, and Abby was more than free to begin her attack.

"McGee!" She commanded, stomping her foot and demanding that he be brought to her side with her voice alone. Her narrowed eyes prompted him to comply, and he stood up warily. Once he made his way to her, she flung her arms around his neck and crushed his ribs with the force of her hug.

"Abby!" He choked out, his voice portraying the first bit of emotion since the forest that wasn't shortened and/or clipped. "I- I c-could use the… the _air_..." The last word was a wheeze of his last breath of oxygen.

She eventually stepped back, allowing him to wincingly rub his chest as he enjoyed the opportunity to breathe again. Only then did he notice her tears, and his arm dropped limply to his side as he grimaced sourly.

He didn't want this, for her or for him. It was too late for the latter, but he could prevent the first. He realized her hand was still grasping his arm, and his eyes were drawn to it – but that only made her grip it harder. So his gaze was reluctantly pulled back to her face, and her resolute expression was almost enough for him to start spouting everything he was trying to keep from her.

Almost.

"What do you w-" Her glare warned him it was unwise to finish that sentence the way he wanted to. "Abby…" He pleaded, almost imploringly.

She didn't budge. "I had to find out through Ziva, who found out through Gibbs, that you were hit with some kind of curse. What _happened_, McGee?" She begged, less insistent and more desperate. The fact that she wasn't babbling told him that she wasn't okay, and that he better explain. Abby only spoke normally whenever she was too freaked or too stressed to start up her word-machine-gun.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and this time not because of Abby's hugging tendencies. He was feeling whirl-winded, and from the way Abby's tears suddenly picked up in pace and size, it was showing on his face.

He couldn't answer. He had no way of doing so. For once, Abby seemed to understand the lack of need for words. She threw her arms around him, and McGee let himself accept her comfort. The stiffness of his limbs faded, and there was a warmth in the prickling of his eyes that made him fear tears if he opened them.

"It was really bad, huh?" Her quiet voice was worse than the tears that her shock and worry had now dried up.

He didn't answer. He had a feeling he didn't have to, and that she already knew anyway. And he didn't want to describe it. It was bad enough that he knew what it was like himself, but he found himself not-so-secretly glad that she cared and worried.

He'd never felt anything like it before, and he had no intention of feeling it again. He'd never been tortured (never even came close to a situation where that was a possibility) and yet he had been hit with such a spell like it was common currency. For no other reason at all but to cause pain. That had been a first too.

As if sensing his thoughts, Abby squeezed him tighter. He needed her right then. She'd always been enough to help him clear his thoughts, to help him make sense of things, and he was desperately lacking that at the moment.

Even without her trying, he could feel himself relaxing just from her touch. Just from her reassurance, it was a little easier to breathe – he was even beginning to experience the first bits of embarrassment at the way he was pitifully moaning over a curse.

That meant he was feeling better, and that was rather okay by him. He hugged her back.

"Aw, look at them, Ziva. It's like he's _trying _to get Gibbs to murder him in cold blood."

McGee sighed a little, wincing as he felt Abby's hands tightening on his back.

He looked up in time to see Ziva hitting Tony's arm, while the Italian's smile vanished at the look on Abby's face. He glanced from the Goth's red rimming to the junior agent's avoiding eyes, and then settled with a sigh, sitting on his chair. Ziva followed his lead and cautiously sat down herself, keeping half a wary eye on the three other people in the bullpen.

"Though I get why it's so hard to avoid being crushed in one of Abby's hugs." Tony half-glanced at McGee before focusing on whatever was on top of his desk as if his attention had never wavered. It was his way of apologizing, and McGee would take what he could get.

"I think you need to be reminded of that." Abby challenged, taking a threatening step toward him with her eyes narrowing in foredoom. Lips twitching up, he saw Ziva visibly relaxing at the tension leaving the bullpen. Tony leaned back from her nervously and they were right back to normal.

"Where have you two been anyway?" McGee asked, mustering up annoyance to start covering for his unusually emotionless behavior of the last few hours.

"None of your business." Tony automatically said flippantly.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "We went to get something for Mary to eat. Just because we like living off coffee, does not mean an eight-year-old does." She explained, and McGee had a hard time not noticing how her eyes seemed a little brighter when she spoke about the little girl. Neither did he fail to notice her gaze flickering to her partner's quirking lips.

He didn't know. He didn't want to know. That had always been his motto when it came to the two of them. Except, lately, there was a lot more not to know, and that was starting to leave him apprehensive. Well, at least it was keeping his mind off less pleasant things.

And there went that.

He forcibly sat down and was surprisingly unsurprised when Abby automatically plopped down on the edge of his desk too.

And waited.

"Right." He cleared his throat after a while of Abby's silence-filling blabber. "What are we supposed to right in the report, again?" He asked, eyeing the tiny figures of a computer game Tony was sweating over (and losing) and Ziva mindlessly checking her e-mail.

Ziva managed to get half-a-shrug in before Gibbs strolled into the squad-room and gave him the answer. "Nothing."

Jenny followed him quietly, and McGee spared her a hesitant look before refocusing on his boss. "Nothing?"

"Don't question it, McGee!" Tony cried, indignant. His game had been hastily shut down, and now he was paying full attention at what was going on around him. "My God, I bet you _asked _for homework as a kid." He said, letting the horror multiply to an indecent extent on his face.

"What's wrong with that?" The junior agent questioned, defensively.

Any answer Tony's opening mouth might have given was muted by the look Gibbs gave him.

"C'mon, Timmy," Abby scolded instead, undeterred in the knowledge that Gibbs wouldn't do a thing to her. "who likes the homework kid?"

"_I_ always did my homework." Ziva narrowed her eyes, not in Abby's direction, but in Tony's. "Why, would that be a problem?"

"Why are we talking about homework, again?" Tony wisely and hastily interrupted the subject flow.

"'Cause you're idiots who should be getting Mary off Ducky's hands." Gibbs informed them. How he knew Ducky had her, they'd never know.

"I'll get her." Jenny offered, interrupting whatever Tony was about to reply.

Silence followed. Tony's eyes flickered to Gibbs, who was looking down with an unseen smirk, and then to Ziva, whose gaze was resting on her partner already.

Jenny decided to settle things once and for all then. She harrumphed, just barely refraining from stomping her foot, and her eye-roll told all of them that an informal (meaning, open) discussion of the issues they so obviously had with her.

"I don't bite." She stated flatly, and before Tony had had the time to make an apologizing crack on that, she had already ploughed on. "And I'll tell you the same I told Gibbs, without all the silent glares and details – I did what I had to do according to my country's laws and my obligations to it and them. So now," She continued pointedly, not allowing any interruptions. "I will get the little girl down in autopsy and there isn't going to be anyone with problems regarding it, nor is anyone going to try and stop me."

And she turned, walking off in the direction of the elevator that would lead them downstairs, looking perfectly calm and composed, and not at all like her loyalties and ability to be trusted had just been questioned. Tony was dying to make either a wisecrack or a reference, but he refrained (nearly biting his tongue) at the look Gibbs was giving him.

However, she didn't make it far. Abby was arm-spread, right in front of her and back to the entrance in Jenny's path, and she wouldn't let her pass, sporting a steely and non-nonsense glare. "You are not going anywhere," She said imperiously. "without a group hug."

Abby immediately held a premature finger to her lips to quench anyone's future protests. The narrowed eyes and resolved expression promised force to anyone who failed to comply with her orders. Since she knew they would never join her willingly, she took the time to drag each of them (even Gibbs – she had guts) out of their chairs, and forcibly pull their arms around each other.

She had to keep her hand tightly on Gibbs and Jenny to keep them from fleeing. It lasted two seconds, and it was so awkward that Tony didn't even have it in him to mock anything about it. Gibbs' glower wasn't cheerful either. That whole description was probably not very encouraging to the forensic scientist.

But Abby was still not satisfied, apparently, so the team leader sighed, giving up, and pulled her to his chest, dropping a light kiss to her cheek. She seemed happier, and Tony was astonished at the touchy-feeling way his boss was behaving (he knew that he did that a lot, but always when he was alone with the Goth, and never so blatantly in front of his team).

Jenny's features were softened by that as she walked away. Abby shrugged, bubbly as ever, blew a kiss to McGee and trailed after her, catching the elevator just in time.

For his part, Gibbs thought it was only much-too-intense care for Abby that had kept him quiet and in place for the stupidest two seconds of his life. He was… glad, that Abby considered him family, but he was not like her when it came to showing it. And that didn't improve his mood in any way. So he sat back down as soon as he could.

Tony regained their focus in his most flamboyant manner (the usual one). "Okay. Now that that's over." And he cheerfully strolled out of the bullpen in the opposite direction of the two women that had just left, before Gibbs could stop him.

As soon as he disappeared behind the alcove, McGee immediately spoke. "He's too happy. He's having-" McGee stopped abruptly. "You know." He managed weakly, gesturing vaguely in an unknown gesture.

Gibbs was sure that, if Ziva hadn't been so intent on the gestured invitation Tony had so obviously (though in what the senior agent called a covert manner) made to her on his way out, she would have said something to that. Sometimes, he wondered if his junior agent was as oblivious as he appeared, or if McGee tried so hard to pretend he didn't notice anything, that the young man actually _didn't _notice anything.

"Uh-huh." Gibbs didn't let his blank face show any interest in the subject as he stared unseeingly at a random sheet he was definitely supposed to know the contents thereof. (Of course, the lack of reaction might have had something to do with the fact that he'd just spotted Ziva would-be-inconspicuously slipping out of the bullpen. Gibbs knew exactly was DiNozzo was _having_.) "And you care, because?"

He slipped after the reminder of his team without waiting for McGee's flustered answer to his rhetorical question. He had two idiots to deal with.

**A\N: All in all, I think I'm not doing too bad. This IS my first author's note of the whole story, so… bear with me a little? (I feel so hopeful about that and everything).**

**Anyway, this note came about because, for the first time, I needed one. When and if you get to the bottom of this, you'll realize that I have a… minor, tendency to ramble, and, because of that (and also because I'm on my second paragraph and haven't said anything of importance) I avoid these things as much as possible.**

**Reason for this A\N (finally): this chapter has become WolfReinMoon's birthday present! :D It was yesterday, and it's late, but, still, what kind of person would I be if I didn't make a shout-out to my most supportive reader/reviewer/awesomeness-in-person?! :DDDD**

**On another note, since she/he has been the only reviewer I can't PM back, Too Lazy To Sign: thank you! :D I'm glad you're enjoying the story!**

**Lastly, I'd like to say that, though I haven't addressed you much (at all), that doesn't mean I don't appreciate every hit I get. :D You guys have been wonderful with reviews, favs, follows, and everything, and I just hope I'm living up to your expectations. **** THANK YOU!**


	20. Double Meanings and Reckless Behaviour

**DISCLAIMER: Neither the TV show 'NCIS' nor the 'Harry Potter' book series belong to me.**

"You are really pulling your luck."

Ziva had found Tony where she expected to find him. The alcove behind the stairs was a stupid place to be doing things their twenty-foot-distant boss would kill them for, but Tony had never exactly claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shack.

"It's _our _luck I'm _pushing_." He corrected her on both counts, offering a charming grin in what didn't look or sound like an apology at all.

"I doubt I'm going to be the one that Gibbs will murder." She pointed out flatly, and he pointedly ignored her.

Tony glanced around very quickly; Ziva wondered why he was bothering. It wasn't like there was a soul in the building that hadn't noticed what was going on between them, and had just chosen to carefully ignore it in favor of avoiding Gibbs' wrath. She almost asked him that, but then he made her lips too busy for anything else.

He kissed her, and, like a good example of Newton's third law, instinct drove her to instantly kiss him right back.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, as soon as she had the sufficient lack of oxygen (and sufficient strength of will) to pull back. "We are going to get caught."

Her words could have been more convincing if she hadn't been eyeing the distracting smudge of her lipstick on his mouth. She didn't struggle with herself about it for long, and soon she was wiping at it. Obviously, that did nothing to diminish his knowing grin.

He pressed her against the wall, and it was only then that she realized that, somewhere along their acts of disrespectful disregard about office rules, he'd completely turned her around (both in terms of her position and opinion on those same acts). She knew why he was acting like this. She couldn't put it into words, but the exchanges in the bullpen, Mary, all of it, left her wanting his... comfort.

Despite that, thinking of Mary brought up some lingering darkness in her mind, the kind that wouldn't leave her alone. Sometimes she was still caught by the usual fear of commitment and the fear of his own issues, and why was she doing this? She'd end up hurt, alone, like every other time and-

And he was just taking her hand. Rubbing mind-absent circles in it, expression completely relaxed as he unknowingly soothed her inner turmoil. She unconsciously leaned into him and rested her forehead on his chest. Oh, yeah. That was why.

She looked back up at her partner. He smirked then, because she was brushing a thumb on his temple and definitely not trying to put an end to their endeavors. "And yet you don't seem to mind." He murmured, and his hands were dropping lower and lower.

"I'm not interrupting your work, am I?" The words were said with drawled out calm and they had never felt the blood rush out of their faces so fast.

"Boss!" Tony squeaked – if Ziva didn't know him better, she'd say that the unnatural width of his eyes professed fear. "We- We were just-" Italian made, he made use of his hands to gesture between their bodies – a rather inefficient way of explanation, in Ziva's opinion.

Maybe he ought to have disengaged himself from her earlier. Gibbs' stare was a little too prominent on the way he was still pinning her to the wall. They jumped apart, discretely smoothing out their clothes in a foolish attempt to mask what they'd been doing.

"Making a sequel to this morning?" He finished, raising his eyebrows.

Tony wasn't quite sure if he meant the scene in the bullpen, or the… mild interactions they'd had in the senior agent's apartment. Gibbs _did _know all, but Tony still fervently prayed for the first option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

He was _so _toast.

Gibbs stared at them. It was time for the conversation he'd prayed he'd never have to have. Jesus, couldn't they have been a little less obvious? So he could claim blissful ignorance?

He couldn't do that now. He stared between the two of them, Ziva with flushed cheeks and Tony with thoroughly messy hair (again – did she have a problem with his hair?). And that was just the beginning. Tony would be thankful that, after the forest, he'd changed into a t-shirt, because experience had taught Gibbs that lipstick stains didn't come off easy.

Gibbs crossed his arms. "DiNozzo," He sighed, deciding on a course of conversation. "get lost."

Tony looked more than a little stumped as Ziva engaged Gibbs in a staring contest. "Boss?" he asked – he was so sure _he_'d be the one six-feet under that night, not Ziva.

"Go." He retorted as shortly as only Gibbs could. And Tony left, not one to question direct orders from him, but the older agent could still see him watching them and wondering as he walked away.

Gibbs was a get-to-the-point kind of guy, and Ziva was no different, so neither of them was bothered when, as soon as Tony was safely out of sight (which took a while, because Tony apparently had suspiciously dragging feet), the team leader went straight for the kill.

"I hope you know what you're doing." He stated bluntly with two raised eyebrows. "Both of you. Because I sure as hell don't."

Ziva winced. This was exactly what she'd hoped to avoid. She felt herself stiffening even as that thought reached her, like she was preparing herself mentally for her father (in all intents and purposes) figure's disappointment.

"Not gonna bite you, Ziver." He offered, sensing her discomfort. "Though I can't promise I'll extend that courtesy to DiNozzo."

She let slip a tense smile. "I know."

And that was it for conversation. Like Gibbs, Ziva had always worked best with silence, but she'd never felt such an uncomfortable one.

She didn't know what to do or say. She was partly pestering herself to give some sort of explanation, and partly rebelliously protesting in outrage at that idea. She felt like a defiant teenager who refused to explain her father why she thought it would be a good idea to go out after curfew.

Gibbs solved the problem for her by starting up a rare monologue. Of course, it _was _Gibbs, so, mono or not, it was still short, blunt and to the point, much like the man himself. "I have no interest in what you and DiNozzo have been doing," He stressed. "so I'm not gonna ask. I just have one thing to say: be serious about it. Because you're putting a lot at stake."

If only Gibbs knew how much. There was a beat of silence.

"Tony is adopting Mary."

Whoever said she had control over her mouth?

Gibbs lifted his eyebrows, tantalizingly slowly. She felt her hands twitch in a repressed effort to bury themselves in her hair. Her nerves almost made her bite her nails, which was something she'd never done before. "Or at least, he is going to try." Now that she'd spilled it, she might as well leave the situation clear.

Gibbs offered one of his usual penetrating silences then – and it was so stressing that Ziva's mind had plenty of time and imagination to picture the most twisted and whirled outcomes, the least of which was certain death.

Gibbs and his… _quietness _were _so _infuriating. Ziva always needed to know what others were mulling over, and her boss never allowed that. That was part of her training and it meant that she could have control. Without it, she felt like pulling her hair in frustration.

Except she couldn't say a word, because that was also part of her training. She kept the cool and closed-off expression that Mossad would be proud of, and it annoyed her.

"And what's your part in that?"

The question should not have been unexpected, nor should it have caught her off-guard. She stared at Gibbs' expectant and serene (like a storm's eye) expression, and, suddenly, she was cold and rubbing her arms. Or at least cold was her excuse.

She avoided his gaze. Sometimes she forgot that Gibbs seemed to have the talent that she'd learned in Israel as a given gift himself. He knew all, and it would do for her to keep that in mind. "He-" Unconsciously, her voice stuttered over the words, and she cursed herself for it. "He has asked me to adopt her too… as a couple, with him." Needless to say, the hesitation on that last part was perfectly conscious.

She might have imagined Gibbs sighing. Regardless, she watched him apprehensively as he crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest wall. "Not gonna ask what your answer was to that." He said dryly, and she flushed. "Don't do pointless questions. Don't do repeating myself either, but, this time, I'll allow it – you better know what you're doing." He said quietly.

He was too serious for her liking. That was what made her get some introspection done.

She thought about Mary. She thought about all the things she'd dreamed about having in a Mossad-free future, all the things she'd always allowed herself to wish for but never expect. She thought about Tony, and his light kisses and secret smiles. She thought about waking up to see him in a kitchen, scowling at the sun, and she thought about real Christmases with a real family.

For all of that, she knew her answer.

"I do."

He half-smiled. She was sure of it.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked off without a spare glance, leaving Ziva to stare at his retreating back and floating words. "Then you should know that I have another clause for rule 12. It involves exceptions and kids."

It hadn't been a very long conversation, but, for Ziva, it was just a little more packed than a usual one was.

McGee was instantly worried the moment that Tony reentered the bullpen jittery and looking back too many times for a relaxed man. There was no way that that would bode anything good for him – whenever Tony was distracted, Tim somehow ended up paying the bill for that. In the back of his mind, he unconsciously began making a list of everything on his table-top that he ought to stash away - for protection from anything Tony might do.

He watched from his desk as the senior agent barely seemed to acknowledge his presence in the room, plopping down on his own desk.

"Something wrong, Tony?"

Tim's wary question seemed to have little to no effect on the senior agent. Tony's head, which had been bobbing back and forth between his desk (which DiNozzo was supposed to be paying attention to) and the alcove (where McGee's curiosity was also directed) twitched to the junior agent briefly, but that was pointless. He didn't answer, and his head went right back to the turning around – it looked like he was trying not to stare at a naked girl, except that he was being really obvious about it.

Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have looked normal, but this was Tony, so McGee just threw him a crumpled piece of paper to the head.

Annoyed, Tony's narrowed eyes turned to him, and McGee finally had his full attention, though all the glaring was unnecessary and uncalled for.

Tim arched an eyebrow, determined not to feed DiNozzo's ego any more than strictly necessary by acknowledging the look he was giving him. "What was going on over there?" He asked curiously, gesturing to the stairs.

Tony ignored his question – of course he did. "You don't get to do that." He informed him, pointing at the white paper ball on the floor. "I'm the clown, not you. You're the McSuck-up goody two-shoes."

Much like Tony had done himself, Tim studiously ignored him. "What is going on lately?" He decided to ask – he had been wondering for a while, but (for some reason) he'd also been somewhat reluctant about asking outright about it. "You and Ziva have been acting… stranger than usual, and now you two took off and Gibbs went after you." He looked at him expectantly, crossing his arms. "What's up?"

Tony seemed to be sufficiently distracted from his staring in the alcove's direction to ponder McGee with a mild frown. He appeared suspicious of something, but it was McGee's guess as to what. "What do you mean, 'what's up'?" He asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

McGee had expected him to complete that sentence somehow, and, when he didn't, he realized that Tony was actually asking him what he meant – which surprised Tim, because, as far as the junior agent knew, the interactions and stupid joking between his two teammates were perfectly conscious actions, for the two of them. There was no reason for Tony not to have noticed how his behavior had changed around his partner lately. "Are you turning into Ziva?" He asked, eyeing Tony's crossed arms – well, at least now he had his full attention. "Because I'd expect that question from _her_."

Tony stared at him, seemingly looking for any signs of deceit. When he didn't find any, he blinked, once, twice – and he looked completely dumbfounded. "You actually _don't _know?" He asked, as if confirming something ridiculous. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Tony. Seriously." He answered dryly, trying not to show how he was getting an unwelcome feeling of foredoom to the subject, and becoming uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. Besides that, the disbelief from his coworker didn't have the power to make him experience inadequacy – he supposed that he had had many years of ignoring that, and was now trained.

"Well, it's just…" Tony scrambled for words, and McGee had the unprecedented pleasure of seeing DiNozzo look flustered. "We haven't been very… inconspicuous-"

And McGee made the conscious decision not to listen to another word. He was pretty sure the senior agent had said something about Gibbs knowing, and how that probably meant that it was fine to tell everyone else, but- he didn't listen.

Well. _Now _he knew what was up. Apparently, he was ignorant enough to miss explicit behavior, but he could read between Tony's lines.

He hadn't wanted to know – but that was when he thought they weren't actually _doing _anything. He had taken for granted that their feelings for each other had become much less than platonic long ago (and that had happened fast and hard), but he had also taken for granted that they would never do anything about it – except in McGee's books.

They just had too many unresolved issues that they needed to get over before doing a thing. And given Tony's reluctance in accepting reality and change, and Ziva's inability to cope with being emotionally dependent on someone after the amount of times that that had gone wrong for her, McGee had figured it'd never happen.

Except apparently it had. They'd done… something, and, maybe subconsciously, Tim had wanted to be oblivious to it. Now he felt rather naïve – the whole building had practically been buzzing with that particular gossip, even if Tony and Ziva had not said a thing (at least McGee was right about _one _of his assumptions: if they ever got involved with each other, their attitude would change too much for anyone – except, apparently, himself – not to know).

He should have seen the very obvious signs (seriously, they could have at least left _some_ groping for home) – and seeing the very obvious signs would have meant coming to the conclusion that there had to have been a reason for their acting on their feelings. Something such as Mary.

He should have seen it. Hell, they should have told him about it. Didn't they? McGee thought they should have.

And now he found himself irritated.

He didn't know why he felt so upset about it - his friendship with Ziva was (very) lacking compared to the one she had with Tony. Hell, it was very lacking compared with McGee's own relationship with the senior agent. She wasn't even the main cause of his pout - it was with Tony he was more annoyed with. They were friends, weren't they? So why hadn't he said anything about this?

But, instead of voicing that out-loud and risk sounding like a petulant child, he limited himself to a glare and two crossed arms. He guessed, from Tony's surprised look, that the Italian was as unexpecting of his behavior as Tim was himself.

"So Gibbs found out and didn't kill you?" His huffing tone suggested there was a bit more to that question than what met the eye.

He was just so… tired of secrecy, and the idea that they had to keep things from each other. Which was kind of hypocritical, since he was refusing to talk about what had transpired in the forest and if it hadn't been for Gibbs, no one would even _know _that something had happened at all. Still, he had no idea what was making him feel this way, but people needed people, and, for some reason, that curse and Abby had shown him that very clearly today. He was tired of trust issues, and, unfortunately, Tony was there and available to take the onslaught those thoughts brought.

Tony raised his eyebrows, eyeing McGee's stiff and straight stance warily. "I don't think this is about whether I told you Ziva and I are-"

"Okay, okay! You can stop right there!" McGee interrupted firmly in a high-pitched voice, as if all of his introspection had been suddenly rendered completely void. Then he frowned, staring at Tony suspiciously. "When did you decide to become so open about it anyway?"

Tony shrugged, and McGee saw. Tony had become… mature to an extent he had never imagined, in his wildest dreams, to be possible for the senior agent. And yet McGee had no doubt in his assumption that that change had originated from Mary. And more likely than not, Ziva too.

Regardless of all that – he _was _being open about it. So maybe the whole drama he was thinking up in his head was completely pointless, and he ought to relax. Except the annoyance that had already been conjured didn't really go away.

Tony scrutinized him cautiously, as if unable to understand what exactly was going on with the junior agent. "You know me, McGee," He said carefully, looking cautious about how he said his words. That didn't settle well with McGee, because it made him feel like some unstable middle-aged woman going through a midlife crisis. "I'm an open book."

McGee rolled his eyes weakly. "Absolutely. You're always an open book. Particularly open when you said that where you went earlier was none of my business."

"Yeah, but, you know, I knew that Ziva would tell you." He protested. McGee had lost track of the point of this discussion. Tony was good at doing that.

"But you had a problem with telling me you'd gone to get food for Mary?"

"Well, maybe Ziva's just better at lying about where we'd really gone than I was."

"See what I mean about being open?" McGee offered his last retort.

Well, they were back to their bantering. So… as long as his two coworkers kept their private interactions to themselves in their alone time at home, Tim should be good.

Then he remembered that this was Tony he was thinking about. And no matter how much blame one could put on the senior agent, he couldn't forget Ziva either. Who was he kidding? He'd end the day scarred for life – if not the next hour. They had slipped out of his sight together three times by now, and McGee was worried. And that was just one day worth of dating.

Well, he assumed it was just one day…

"So how long has… it been going on?" McGee asked suddenly, continuing that train of thought out loud and stuttering on the words while he changed the subject.

Tony eyed him warily, and McGee got the feeling that he was discussing this for the first time. And he was instantly regretful – he had a pretty nasty imagination that told him that, at least about this, maybe he didn't want details.

Tony looked defensive, and McGee's writer mind automatically jumped at the opportunity of seeing 'Tommy's' first hand reaction at the subject for his book. So much so that he almost forgot about his uneasiness about Tony's answer.

Maybe his fit had actually served for something – if he hadn't thrown it, maybe Tony wouldn't have been so willing to talk about it. "Since last night." But then, a flickering expression ran through Tony's face – he seemed to have realized that he had a reputation to maintain, and that giving non-clown-like answers was not the way to do it. He leaned forward conspiratorially with a masking mischievous shine to his eye. "Would you like details?"

"About as much as I wanna tell Gibbs what you just admitted to me."

Tony scoffed at the teasing threat, which was not at all the reaction McGee was expecting. "You really think I'd be telling you this if Gibbs didn't already know?"

McGee frowned, staring at Tony wonderingly as the senior agent tapped his desk (in an annoying way) to calm the nervousness that Tim could see, from the way the Italian was constantly staring in the hallway's direction again, had returned.

There was a piece of the puzzle he was still missing. Tony's behavior was uncharacteristic – he was always afraid of Gibbs, whenever he did something stupid. DiNozzo wouldn't willingly volunteer his own cross for his boss to burn him on, would he? "I don't get it. You're not usually this forthcoming. And now you've told Gibbs?"

Tony turned his head to him again, looking irritated and no longer careful of McGee's weird annoyance. "Well, let me put it this way: unless Gibbs is stupid, blind and/or seriously oblivious-" Tony began, leaning back in his chair.

"You wanna finish that sentence, DiNozzo?"

Of course Gibbs entered the bullpen right then.

"Don't see a reason to, Boss." Tony immediately answered. He glanced behind Gibbs – and when he failed to see Ziva, a frown wrinkled his forehead. But Gibbs wasn't done. When he passed DiNozzo's desk, he grabbed him by his tie and dragged his stumbling form to the elevator that lead to Abby's lab. McGee was almost worried.

But his worry for Tony was no match to his sudden desire to be nosy on their lives.

Maybe that curse had taken a bigger toll than he supposed. He was starting to act scarily like DiNozzo, and that was never a good thing. So, he mused as he picked up the phone that Ziva had left discarded on her table-top, this wasn't really his fault.

He went straight for her texts. He found several, but, most prominently, the name blinking up at him was Tony's. Of course. He clicked on the first message from him.

Then he really, _really_, wished he hadn't. He was starting to see why this careless kind of (DiNozzo-like) behavior brought Tony so much bad luck.

The phone clattered back onto the desk as McGee hurriedly tried to shield his poor mind from the horrors within it. It was either that or something else entirely (such as the fact that she was a trained assassin who had killed people for less than snooping) that made him miss the quiet footsteps that signalized that Ziva was both approaching and going to catch him red-handed.

"Is there anything interesting on my personal, private cell, McGee?" She asked casually, dropping down on her desk with a glare in her narrowed eyes, even if her expression was trying for serene and, at least to him, failing.

McGee opened his mouth and nothing came out, so, instead, he fled to the stairs that would lead him to Abby's lab. Honestly, it looked like the safest decision.

The only problem with the plan was that Ziva followed him. Which wasn't good at all. At _all_. He was going to end up dead today, for sure. He was never pulling another stunt like Tony again. Ever.


End file.
